


what tangled webs we weave

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Accidental friendship, Angst, Angst and Humor, Apologies, Bad Science, Big Gay Freakout, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff, Fun with Powers, Future Fic, High School, Hostage Situations, Hotstreak being badass, Humor, Lies, M/M, Or rather Big Bisexual Freakout if I'm being accurate, POV Minor Character, POV Multiple, Pining, Postseries, Reformed Criminals, Rejection, Ridiculous fire metaphors, Sad Backstory, Secret Identity, Secrets, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Snarky but not evil Hotstreak, Somehow Hotstreak is the most well-adjusted person here, Tutoring, Virgil is jealous of Static
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Virgil accidentally offers to help his worst enemy turn his life around, he soon finds himself juggling far too many secrets and an inconvenient crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blame the Rain

Static hates the rain, even though Virgil used to love it.   
  
In the days before the Bang, the teen would always toss his umbrella aside to stand beneath the torrent and let the water wash his worries clean. It seemed like nothing could hurt him then, wrapped in the wildness of nature and the world always looked brighter after a storm had passed.  
  
Sometimes Virgil misses that boy he used to be because now rain just means that he cannot use his powers. A storm is only an annoyance which keeps Static grounded, useless, and worst of all, vulnerable to every criminal who might want a piece of him. It leaves the teen with no weapons but his fists and while Virgil is in better shape than he was before, he's the first to admit that his fighting skills are weak.  
  
Therefore on days like this, when it seems like everything has decided to go wrong, the rain is the easiest thing to blame.   
  
Static had been out late the night before, rounding up a group of robbers who had the bright idea to dress in rubber suits. While it hadn't stopped the superhero, it made catching them an aggravation and he had been thankful to strip off his costume and collapse into his bed. Of course then Virgil had accidentally zapped his alarm clock into smoking pieces in his sleep and only Richie on the Shock Vox had woken him up at all.   
  
He was already running late by then and with the rain pouring down outside, the teen couldn't just fly to school and save everyone some trouble. So one long sprint later, Virgil is soaked to the bone and wishing he'd remembered his umbrella as his high school finally comes into view.  
  
And when he walks through the gate to see Hotstreak standing in the courtyard, jailed and suspended but somehow still causing trouble, all he wants to do is groan. _Seriously, I do not need this right now,_ Virgil thinks, tired and cold and ten minutes late for class.   
  
The teen almost wants to just give up and go home or head over to the Gas Station, but his grades have already suffered enough because of Static and he knows his father will kill him if they get any worse. _No, pops won't kill me. He'll simply give me that disappointed stare instead, the one that makes me feel like dirt. Ah hell, I guess I've got to suck it up._  
  
There are enough people gathered around Hotstreak that Virgil hopes he might be able to slip by unnoticed so the teen starts carefully shoving his way through the crowd of cops, teachers, and gawking students as he tries to reach the door.  
  
Unfortunately lady luck turns her back on him because just when he thinks he's home free, a hand grabs his backpack and jerks him to a stop. Virgil turns warily to see Hotstreak grinning down at him as the other teen wraps a vice-like arm around his neck and drags him to the center of the crowd. It's almost like the old days when the worst Francis could do was punch him and the best he could do was run away, except back then there were never cops involved.  
  
“Play along Hawkins or I'll break your legs.” Hotstreak hisses in his ear as he pulls him in front of the two policemen and plasters a smile on his face. “See I found him so all of you can leave now,” the pyrokinetic says, shifting his arm to wrap around Virgil's shoulder as though they're friends.  
  
Although the cops seemingly take him at his word, a few of the teachers look suspicious and Mr. Fredrickson steps forward with a frown. The biology teacher had caught Hotstreak trying to dent the wall with Virgil's head a few times back in the day and he looks honestly concerned as he asks, “Are you sure about this Mr. Hawkins? It would be a big responsibility.”  
  
However, with the redhead's arm locked tight around his back and the rain still pouring down, Virgil really wants to be anywhere but here so he mumbles vague reassurances and nods. “Sure, whatever. Look I'm late for class already and my homework's probably getting wet so can we just wrap this up?”  
  
That's enough for the policemen who shove a packet of papers in his hands and tell him to call 911 if things go sour before booking it to the relative shelter of their car. Virgil stares after them in disgust, remembering similar unimpressive encounters with them as Static, until Mr. Fredrickson calls his attention back.   
  
“So it seems that Mr. Stone will be attending classes with you for now; stop by the office at lunch and they'll sort your schedules out. You and your family do Dakota proud by being so forgiving and I hope your example will turn this delinquent around but if he gives you any trouble at all don't hesitate to turn him in. 'Hotstreak' here is walking on thin ice.”  
  
 _Wait what about my family?_ The teen wonders in confusion as the teacher walks away, but before he can ask, the pyro is dragging him inside. While it is nice to be out of the rain, Virgil would really like some answers so he grabs Hotstreak and shoves the redhead into the boy's bathroom when no one else is looking.  
  
“Okay, mind explaining what the hell is going on?” He asks in frustration as soon as the door shuts behind them, and then dumps his backpack out on the counter to see what he can salvage.  
  
“Hawkins, I thought you were supposed to be a good student. Skipping class already, what kind of example is that?” Hotstreak laughs, starting to wring out his clothes.  
  
“I already missed half of first period because of you so it won't make much difference now and I am seriously not in the mood for this.” Virgil growls. He was right and his homework was getting wet, but thankfully most of it is only damp around the edges. His calculator on the other hand, looks like a total loss. _Fuck, that was expensive. Maybe Richie can fix it for me._  
  
“It's all in that packet the cops handed you. Not my fault if you haven't read it yet.” The older metahuman replies with a smirk.  
  
“This packet?” Virgil waves the sodden mess of paper in disgust before tossing it in the trash. “Seriously, _Francis_ , just explain. Why are you even back here anyway, shouldn't you have graduated already or been expelled?”  
  
“Yeah well, turns out juvie isn't so good for your GPA.” Hotstreak snarks before lighting up his hands. Virgil can't help but flinch back at the sight, remembering a few too many burns from Static's encounters with the pyrokinetic. However, the other teen doesn't attack him, just clenches his fists tightly and soon steam starts rising from his clothes. _Oh that is so unfair,_ Virgil thinks in annoyance for Hotstreak is dry in moments while he has to stand here and drip instead.  
  
But the younger metahuman shakes the jealousy from his mind and continues with his questioning, still trying to figure out what exactly he agreed to. “Yeah well maybe you should have thought of that before you went around robbing people. But seriously, they actually let you out just so you could graduate?”  
  
“More or less.” The redhead shrugs. “I spun some sob story about never getting to go to college and make something of myself and they all ate it up. So here I am, ready to hit the books.”  
  
“Right,” Virgil scoffs. “Why do I get the feeling that this is total bullshit?”  
  
“Hey! I really do plan to graduate, or at least get my GED. No one ever said I had to be nice about it, but I'm actually going straight this time. 'Channeling my anger into more productive outlets' like my counselor loved to say.” Hotstreak looks almost offended as he crosses his arms across his chest, daring the other to challenge this claim.  
  
But at the moment the younger teen is too tired to bother and this whole conversation is becoming rather surreal. “Okay, whatever. Say I do believe you, why now? You've had two years to change your mind and you still haven't told me how I fit in.”   
  
“I turned eighteen last month, which means that if I get caught again I'm not going back to juvie, they're locking me up and throwing away the key. They've got some of Alva's power dampeners to keep me there and I ain't cool with that.” The other metahuman explains and Virgil has to admit that this almost makes sense. However, he's not ready to let Hotstreak off the hook that easily.  
  
“And this never occurred to you earlier?” He asks as he starts shoving things back into his bag.  
  
“Hey, gotta have your fun while you can, right?” The pyro responds with a smirk. “But since I'm a repeat offender, blah, blah, blah, they don't trust me out on my own, which is why you're going to vouch for me.”  
  
“I'm what?” Virgil can't keep his mouth from dropping open in shock, turning wide eyes on the other teen. “Why exactly would I do something like that?”  
  
“Well you kinda already volunteered outside.” Hotstreak tells him with a grin. “I follow you around school, you help me graduate and then we go our separate ways and you never have to see me again. It'll be a year tops.”  
  
“A **year**?” He shrieks, slightly embarrassed by the pitch he reaches. _I wonder if it's too late to change my mind?_  
  
“Hey if you help me get my GED it'll be less. I just gotta prove myself to be a productive member of society and all that.” The redhead tells him with a laugh. “It'll be fun, Hawkins, just like old times.”  
  
“The old times where you used to kick my ass.” Virgil reminds him. “And what exactly do I get from all this?”  
  
“The joy of being the better person.” Hotstreak retorts, raising an eyebrow. “Aren't you goody two-shoes all about the moral victory? It's not like I'm going to be pounding you again when you can stick the cops on my ass for screwing up.”  
  
 _Damn it all, he's right. Pops is always saying that everyone deserves a second chance and he wasn't so bad when Alva kidnapped us. Still a jerk, but that ain't illegal._   
  
“Fine.” The younger teen sighs. “You can be my shadow or whatever and I'll help you study when I can. But that's another thing- what the hell are the cops thinking just handing you to me? What exactly do they expect me to do if you are faking it?”   
  
“Well, you could always follow their example,” The redhead drawls, “Run away and hide til Sparky gets there.” However, at Virgil's glare he drops the crap. “Look I may have talked up your family a little, what with your dad and sister working with troubled youths and shit. And seriously Hawkins, if you change your mind I'm pretty much screwed since there weren't exactly a lot of volunteers to help me out.”  
  
As far as Virgil can tell the other teen isn't lying and Hotstreak's never been one for subtle planning; he's more the type to charge ahead and burn everything in sight. _This is a really bad idea,_ he tells himself halfheartedly but he knows that it's already too late. He's never been able to resist people in need, even annoying ones- it's part of why he became a superhero, well that and it was cool.   
  
“You're lucky I'm too nice for my own good.” He says with a sigh, shivering at the feel of his damp and clammy clothes. “But fine, I guess I can talk to my pops and see if he can help you out or something, just don't make me regret it. Now if we're going to do this we should go because I need to get to my locker before our next class. Maybe I can wear my gym clothes all day while these dry.”  
  
“Thanks Hawkins, really,” Hotstreak says, sounding almost sincere before his standard smirk returns.   
“While you're at it maybe your dad can find me another place to live too. The court stuck me with the squarest overbearing losers they could find.”   
  
He adds this last as he throws his arm back around the other's shoulders and steers him through the door, his skin a burning line across Virgil's back. To the younger teen's surprise Hotstreak remembers exactly where his locker is and leads him there, _though I suppose he shoved me into it often enough._  
  
Richie is waiting for him, having just gotten out of class and his eyes widen when he sees the pair of them together. “Um, bro? Something you want to tell me?”   
  
Hotstreak grins at the blond's confusion and pulls Virgil in tighter, adopting a dramatic air. “Didn't he tell you, Foley? Hawkins and I have been secret BFFs for years and we decided it was time to finally come clean.”  
  
“Ok, seriously, just go stand over there or something.” Virgil shoves the redhead off him and when the other teen strolls a few feet away to lean on a locker, he sighs with relief before turning back to Richie. His friend is giving him an expectant stare, eyebrows raised and clearly asking what the heck is going on and Virgil winces beneath that gazes.   
  
“I may have sorta accidentally volunteered to keep Hotstreak on the straight and narrow this morning.” He says in an embarrassed whisper, hiding behind the open door of his locker so that no one else can hear. To avoid looking at his friend he focuses on grabbing his books, noticing with disappointment that his P.E. clothes aren't there. _Must be in the gym lockers,_ he thinks optimistically, ignoring the distinct possibility that he lost them somewhere and will have to buy another set.  
  
“You what?” Richie hisses, and grabs the other's arm. “What were you thinking, V? It's Hotstreak, he was a criminal even before he got his powers.”  
  
“Well yeah, but he seems serious this time and pops always says that everyone deserves a second chance. Or like a thirtieth in his case. And I said it was an accident- he volunteered me outside and I didn't know what I was saying yes to; I just wanted to get out of the rain.” Virgil replies, shrugging at his friend's incredulous stare. “You know how I am when I'm wet these days and I can't back out now; I don't think Hotstreak has anyone else to ask, so it's either me or prison.”  
  
“I still say you should have picked prison, but I know you're a sucker for those in need so I'll help you out.” The blond tells him, sighing and patting him on the back. “It isn't going to interfere with our 'movie marathons' though, right?”   
  
“No more than school does anyway. And you're the best, man, I don't know what I would do without you.”  
  
“Crash and burn, V, you'd crash and burn.” Richie says, laughing. “Now we should get to class, you know Mrs. Dietrich hates me and she promised dire injury if you were late again.”  
  
The other teen nods, comforted to know that his best friend will support him even in this madness and turns back to Hotstreak where he's still leaning against the wall. “You heard the man, let's go to class.”  
  
The redhead just smirks as he swaggers over to them, giving an exaggerated bow. “Well lead the way then ladies, I haven't got all day.”  
  
Virgil rolls his eyes at this, grabbing the pyro's arm and pulling him along. He's incredibly thankful that he shares his next class with Richie so he doesn't have to face the horror of voluntarily spending time with Hotstreak on his own. Although to his surprise, the experience is actually pleasant enough if not entirely comfortable.   
  
While the other metahuman is obviously lost, understandable since this is a literature class and Virgil doubts he's read the book, he does at least seem to be paying attention and refrains from insulting anyone for the entire period. However, the greatest surprise is not that the redhead might actually be serious, but something else entirely.  
  
Due to the unfortunate misplacement of his gym uniform, Virgil is still wearing the same soaked clothes and his mind wanders from the discussion as he watches a puddle spread beneath his arm. He tries to subtly wring out his shirt but it doesn't seem to do much good and before long he's shivering beneath the chill. The metahuman doesn't think that he can still get sick because he hasn't caught so much as a cold since the Bang, but he also really doesn't want to find out the hard way that he's wrong. There's no telling what kind of strange side effects being ill could have on his powers and now that Hotstreak will be hanging around, the last thing Virgil needs is to lose control.  
  
Besides it's incredibly unpleasant and the teen hunkers down in misery, promising himself that he'll change as soon as he gets the chance. He's concentrating so hard on trying to pay attention that he doesn't notice the redhead gradually shifting his chair closer and Virgil nearly shrieks when a hot hand presses against his back.  
  
However, he manages to restrain himself from jumping wildly across the room and instead just twitches violently, turning to look at Hotstreak with a dubious stare as heat spreads through his clothes.  
  
“What are you doing?” Virgil hisses at him, before straightening up to smile innocently beneath Mrs. Dietrich's piercing eyes.   
  
But Hotstreak doesn't move his hand and when the teacher finally turns away the redhead leans in to whisper with a smirk. “Your sniffling was annoying me and if I have to hang around you, I'd prefer you not be gross.”  
  
“Well then, thanks I think,” the younger teen says sarcastically and goes back to his book, shifting awkwardly in his chair. Virgil can't deny that the redhead's powers work and he has to fight to keep himself from sinking into the warmth of the other metahuman's hand. _This is weird. Really, really weird. I don't think I've ever actually spent this much time with Hotstreak without one of us getting hurt. And it does feel nice..._  
  
The teen feels himself flush and ducks his head to hide it from Richie's curious glance. He still isn't sure what exactly happened this morning, but he blames the rain for it all.   
  
If not for the rain he wouldn't have been late, if not for the rain he probably wouldn't have agreed to watch Hotstreak, and he certainly wouldn't be sitting here with a hand on his back, warmth on his cheeks and his skin. Even if the pyrokinetic is sincere about his change of heart and Virgil still has some doubts about that, this is seriously going to complicate his life. The teen already has enough trouble balancing his secret identities as a student and a superhero without adding the redhead to the mix.  
  
 _What have I gotten myself into now?_

 


	2. Insults, Doubts & Aggravation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotstreak has issues, let's just leave it at that.

Hotstreak is having far too much fun messing with Hawkins, but he just can't resist needling him a little and nothing he's said so far has been a lie. A few bent truths maybe and certainly some snark, but when he said that he was going straight, he meant it.  
  
The firestarter can see that the other teen still has his doubts and while it may make his life harder, he can't actually blame him for it, not considering how the redhead used to beat him up as F-Stop. Although it's been years since then, such fears root deep and Hotstreak knows that he will have to work hard to gain the other's trust. But he will, because Hawkins really is his best hope to stay out of jail and the pyro will do whatever it takes to avoid this fate because he knows where it would lead.  
  
When he was in juvie, some of the more sadistic guards had delighted in telling their prisoners exactly what would happen to them once they grew old enough to be sentenced as adults. Hotstreak had listened carefully to these warnings since he knew that, as a repeat offender, the moment he turned eighteen all it would take was one more fuck up and he would be put away for life. Life without parole and worse, life without his powers.  
  
The teen may be a delinquent and a piss-poor student, but he knows how the world works and he knows that his time has been running out ever since they started looking for a cure. He goes to prison and it's power-dampeners until they manage to put his fire out for good and then he won't be Hotstreak anymore.  
  
So while joining the side of the do-gooders isn't exactly the metahuman's first choice, it's better than the alternative and the firestarter needs Hawkins to keep him on the straight and narrow. The redhead has never been one to deny his faults and he knows that he's impulsive and ill-tempered and bound to do something stupid if left to his own devices. Thus the other teen is Hotstreak's insurance against himself until the pyro gets the hang of not frying everyone who makes him mad.  
  
And along the way the redhead plans to have as much fun as he can, because if Sparky proves anything, it's that good guys don't always have to be boring as well.  
  
Step one, rile Hawkins up as much as possible to see his face pinch in annoyance and hear whatever crazy sarcastic gibberish he comes out with next. Hotstreak had always appreciated the other teen's sharp tongue and spirit even as he tried to crush it; half the reason he had bullied him so much was because the geek refused to bow his head as he deserved. But while F-Stop could not allow a scrawny little kid to challenge him like that, the pyro is a metahuman now and he has no such face to save.  
  
So when the redhead notices the younger teen shivering next to him, he only hesitates a moment before leaning over to press one burning hand against his back. It's worth the concentration required not to singe him to see the other nearly fall out of his chair in surprise before glancing at him in obvious distrust.  
  
“What are you doing?” Hawkins hisses, and the firestarter grins at the confusion in his voice. _Never thought I could actually be nice, did you?_ Though he doesn't want to ruin his image entirely, so his answer is filled with more snark than obvious care.  
  
However, Hotstreak also finds himself rather entranced by the way the other blushes, and spends the rest of the period watching him instead of the teacher since it's not like he knows what's going on anyway. The teen is sure that he'll have to read the book at some point if he's going to pass the class, but for now he'll take the chance to look at nicer things instead.  
  
The next two periods pass in a similar manner and the redhead is frustrated to discover that both subjects are entirely mystifying, making him realize just how far behind he is even as he's reminded of all the reasons he quit school in the first place. It's just so mind-numbingly dull and even though Hotstreak knows that he needs a degree if he ever wants a decent job, he has trouble believing that physics is really going to matter. Or math, considering that Hawkins is taking some kind of fancy calculus which might as well be voodoo for all the sense it makes.  
  
And everyone is **staring** at him, the pyro can feel their glances on his skin even though they look away quickly whenever he catches their eyes. He doesn't mind the ones who fear him; Hotstreak has earned that reputation and he hasn't changed enough to stop being proud of it, but some of these nerdy little buggers are dissing him instead. The straight-A honor students are obviously wondering what a delinquent like him is doing in their oh-so-special classes and their scorn is starting to piss him off.  
  
 _Don't think I can cut it do you? You think I'm just some dumb punk who belongs in remedial algebra because I don't know what a freaking derivative is. Well screw you, I bet you wouldn't be so smug with my fist in your teeth._  
  
Hotstreak doesn't realize that he's growling under his breath until Hawkins nudges him warily in the side in an effort to get his attention. “Hey man, you with me? The lunch bell rang awhile ago. You're not about to freak or anything right?” The younger teen asks with a worried frown and his concern is enough to sidetrack the pyro's growing rage. It's been a long time since someone bothered to ask how he was and even if Hawkins is probably motivated by the desire to not get punched again, the redhead appreciates the effort.  
  
Not that he's going to tell the other boy that since he's a metahuman not a freakin' girl and this truce they've called doesn't extend to any kind of sharing and caring. “Nah, I'm fine. I'm just adjusting or whatever,” he replies with a smirk instead, waving at his keeper to lead on.  
  
“Okay then.” Although he still looks skeptical, Hawkins shrugs and starts rambling on about his schedule because apparently he took Fredrickson seriously when the teacher said that they should head to the office during lunch. While Hotstreak's usual plan has been to avoid all bureaucracy as a matter of course, he supposes that doing things right also means doing the paperwork. _Which is a damn shame. Not being a criminal would be a lot easier if it wasn't so much fucking work. I wonder if Sparky has to deal with this shit._  
  
Of course, then the other teen notices that the redhead has been tuning out his entire speech and lets out an annoyed growl of his own. “You could at least pretend you're paying attention you know. It's not like I want to spend my lunch in the office either but if you're serious about this we need to get you re-enrolled. So be polite to Ms. Chan because she can seriously screw you over if you piss her off.”  
  
“Fine, fine. I'll be good,” Hotstreak promises, following him into the office and watching in bemusement as the ancient receptionist greets him with a smile. “Virgil, what can I do for you today? I hope there's no more problems with your schedule.”  
  
Hawkins returns her smile with a grin of his own and if the redhead didn't know better he'd think that the teen had nowhere else he'd rather be. “Morning, Ms. Chan. My schedule's great but I need your help with something else today, if you don't mind. Did Mr. Fredrickson happen to mention what happened this morning?”  
  
“Oh yes, he ducked in and told me we were getting a new student. Are you here to sort them out, because I'd be happy to help you with the paperwork.”  
  
It baffles Hotstreak to realize how willing the receptionist is to go out of her way for the other student and he knows that if he were in here by himself, no one would be falling over themselves to help him the same way. _Hawkins does have a nice smile, maybe there's something to be said for being friendly after all,_ he wonders before shoving that thought away as best he can.  
  
“Um, not exactly. He's a returning student actually,” Hawkins says to the receptionist with an awkward wince and pulls the older teen forward. “You remember Francis Stone right?”  
  
Indeed she does, because her face goes white at the sight of him and Hotstreak almost feels bad about the way Ms. Chan starts shaking. Almost, since the pyro actually feels rather annoyed instead because even when he was a criminal, he hadn't gone around blasting little old ladies; but apparently no one pays attention to that kind of thing. _Is everyone going to look at me like that? All I did was rob shit, I'm not a freaking murderer._  
  
Yet despite his wounded pride, Hawkins tight grip on his shoulder reminds him that he needs her and so the redhead stays silent as he attempts a reassuring smile. She flinches beneath it and Hotstreak reminds himself to practice that one for the future even as the younger teen steps in again.  
  
“It's all right, Ms. Chan. I promise he's just here to study and it's my job to make sure he stays in line. So we need to put him in my classes so he can graduate with the rest of us.”  
  
“You're very brave, Virgil, and we all appreciate what you're doing.” She accompanies this statement with a scornful glare toward Hotstreak that makes him grit his teeth again. “But Mr. Stone would have to have receive at least a C in everything to even be eligible and looking at his history with us, I highly doubt that he's capable of that.”  
  
“I know, but we still need to get him enrolled for his parole. However, passing isn't a requirement which is why I was hoping you might have some kind of G.E.D. study guide I could take or know where I could find one.”  
  
“Damn it all, not you too,” the redhead mutters in irritation and only when the other two look up at him in confusion does he realize that he spoke aloud.  
  
“Um, what?” Hawkins asks and the pyrokinetic has to fight to keep from blushing awkwardly as he recognizes what he said and how irrational it was. Hell, he's the one who mentioned getting his G.E.D. in the first place so there's no need to be so offended by their assumptions. But it still grates on his nerves to know that the only looks he's going to be getting from now on are fear or scorn and of the two, he's more comfortable with fear. Except that path leads back to prison and so Hotstreak simply shakes his head.  
  
“Nothing, nothing important. You just do your thing,” he tells the other teen with a dismissive wave and goes back to brooding since it seems like this whole being legal thing is going to be harder than he thought. The pyro has never done well being ignored or looked down upon and those seem to be his only options now that blasting things is out.  
  
 _Whatever. If people want to scorn me than I'll just have to fucking show them that I'm still better than they'll ever be. Or maybe I'll pull a Sparky and become a superhero so I can smack criminals around instead. The whole reformed schtick worked for Rubberband Man._  
  
Eventually Hawkins finishes sorting out the pyro's paperwork and they're free to go again, study guides and transcripts shoved under his arm. “So what exactly was that about?” The younger teen asks as they leave the office. “I've never seen you so quiet or so rattled.”  
  
“Who says I'm rattled? I'm fine,” Hotstreak huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Hawkins as he dares him to question this claim. But while the other teen obviously doesn't believe him, he just gives him a steady stare and changes the subject, for whatever reason deciding not to push the issue now.  
  
Instead in true geek form, he starts talking about homework and study plans and before the redhead knows what's happened, he's spent the rest of the lunch period color-coding his schedule with Foley of all people. It's surreal to look up and realize that he's actually been having fun arguing about highlighters with Hawkins, far, far too enthralled by the way the other teen's eyes sparkle when he smirks. Once Hotstreak starts paying attention, he discovers that he's leaning into the conversation, finding excuses to touch his hands as they fight over markers, and to make the whole thing even stranger, no one else seems to realize what's going on.  
  
Sure the blond is staring at them like they're crazy and the rest of the lunchroom has gone remarkably silent, but there's enough wariness in their eyes that the pyro doesn't worry that anyone knows what's running through his head. Which means there's plenty of time to shut it down before things get out of hand, so the firestarter forces himself to lean back and start digging at Foley instead.  
  
The blond squawks, Hawkins laughter gains an edge of annoyance, and the world returns to its proper place. _Well as much as it can,_ the redhead thinks as the lunch bell rings and he troops back with all the other sheep to class.  
  
At least the afternoon isn't quite so frustrating since it's just history, gym and econ and Hotstreak had had a lot time to read in solitary. In fact, he even manages to answer some of the teacher's questions, pulling out some obscure facts about the Spanish-American War that he'd picked up during one insomniatic night. It's worth feeling like a nerd to see everyone's gobsmacked expressions and his steps are almost jaunty as he follows Hawkins out of their last class.  
  
“So where to now, oh math master, or am I free to go?” The redhead asks, leaning against the wall of lockers as the younger teen grabs all his stuff. “I do need to check in with my parole officer eventually and let 'em know that you agreed to vouch for me. I doubt those cops bothered to spread the word.”  
  
“Huh, oh yeah that makes sense. And I should probably warn... let my pops know what's going on before I bring you over to study. He doesn't do well with surprises,” Hawkins replies with a shrug and then starts handing the pyro books as he rattles off instructions at a mile a minute.  
  
“But you should start studying anyway, you know, even though the schedule we worked out with Richie only kicks in next week. Take my copy of Catcher in the Rye, I finished it and Dietrich likes to give pop quizzes on the reading, chapter 3 for tomorrow. And I know you don't know what the heck we're talking about in calculus, but if you read the textbook through the second section that might help you get your bearings. You seemed all right in history and econ's just a lot of memorizing graphs but you better take my physics textbook too. Actually, why don't you just take my bag? I can get by without it today and you need my notes more than I do. Read them all if you have the time.”  
  
“Do you honestly expect me to do any of this?” Hotstreak asks in bemusement when the other teen shoves his backpack into his hands. “I don't usually read this much in a week.” _At least not unless I'm stuck in juvie with nothing better to do._ Yet at the same time, it is kind of nice for someone to have positive expectations instead of negative, even if they are ridiculously high.  
  
“Hey you're the one who wanted me to help you, so why don't you prove that you're actually worth my time. I know you can be a punk but if you want to succeed at this you'll have to think as well. So impress me,” Hawkins says with a smirk that makes his doubts into a challenge and the pyro has never been one to back down from a dare.  
  
“Whatever, nerd. You're just trying to turn me into one of you but I'll see what I can do. Until tomorrow then,” the firestarter replies with a smirk of his own, throwing the bag over one shoulder and swaggering out of school.  
  
As he knew it would be, Hotstreak's meeting with his parole officer is little more than a formality: just ten minutes of playing the repentant teen while throwing in subtle references to Hawkins' reformative influence and he's off the hook for another week. So the redhead leaves the office shortly after he arrived, turning right to wander into the industrial district instead of heading back to his new 'home' because he needs a place to think and blow off a bit of steam.  
  
It seems almost impossible how fast everything has changed: two days ago he had been in juvie, his days filled with attitude and fear and this afternoon he's practically a free man. Free so long as he doesn't do anything stupid, free so long as he stays within the chains that society decrees and while he knows that it's worth it, Hotstreak still needs some time to wrap his head around his new way of life.  
  
And he's always done his best thinking when his head is on fire.  
  
So the redhead finds an abandoned lot and lights himself up, throwing flame around until the twitch beneath his skin eases and he no longer feels like punching someone in the face just to prove he can. In fact, by the time the ground is good and charred, he has resolved to stick with his plan, make an actual attempt to graduate and prove to Hawkins and everybody else that he's worth a lot more than they think. And if the other teen smiles at him along the way, there's no reason that he can't enjoy the view, even if he has no intention of starting more than that.  
  
“Are you done?” A familiar voice asks when he pauses for a second and Hotstreak whirls to see Static watching him from his perch on the fence. “I heard that you were out again and I guess the rumors didn't lie this time.”  
  
“Then you've heard that I'm on the side of the angels now,” the redhead answers, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as he looks up at the superhero. While duking it out with Sparky always used to improve his mood, the fire singing in his veins and the thrill of taking an equal down, the metahuman cannot afford a fight today. He has to convince the superhero that he's serious about his change of heart and so he lets him have the first move, keeping his hands quiet and in sight.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not,” Static says, obviously skeptical but not attacking him outright and the redhead will take that as a win for now. “If you stay within the law this time, I won't bother you, but I don't trust you and I'll be watching. For your sake, I really hope that you don't screw it up.”  
  
“I ain't lying, Sparky. I don't expect you to believe that I've turned into a saint but I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'm just trying to stay out of prison and get on with my life,” Hotstreak tells the superhero, knowing the truth is his best option at the moment since the other metahuman has always has a knack for seeing through his snark. Static is probably the biggest obstacle to his reformation because the other practically owns Dakota's superhero scene these days and unless he allows it, there's no way the pyro is ever getting free reign to use his powers in his daily life.  
  
Which is what the redhead wants. He wants to be able to flame something innocuous on the street without being jumped from all directions and maybe someday he could help Sparky take out criminals when he gets the urge to beat other people down; the two Bang Babies had worked together surprisingly well when they were forced to cooperate before.  
  
Not that Hotstreak is going to mention this idea right now since he's sure it's going to be a long time before the superhero stops waiting for him to fuck shit up, let alone trusts him at his back. However, Static doesn't ask him anything else after delivering that warning, simply flies off again and leaves the firestarter at somewhat of a loss. He had been expecting a bit more of an argument or at least some pointed questions but he's hardly going to look this gift horse in the mouth.  
  
So the teen gathers up his stuff and heads back to the house which the parole board stuck him in, exchanging distant nods with his new foster father as he walks through the door. The two of them have already clashed over the rules and regulations that he's supposed to follow, but while the other man is far too obsessed with living by the book, the teen has had far worse as foster parents go.  
  
As long as Mr. Hamilton stays out of his way and Hotstreak follows the letter of the law, both of them can pretend that the other doesn't exist, which is just the way he likes it. It seems ridiculous to him that the court thinks living some overbearing loser will help him turn his life around, but it's a roof over his head and free meals three times a day, so the redhead will go along with it for now.  
  
Besides, he has homework to do.

 


	3. Skepticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Difficult conversations.

Virgil is not looking forward to this conversation at all and Richie's smug looks are certainly not helping. Best friend or not, the blond is getting on his last nerve and if he doesn't stop snickering, Virgil is going to smack him upside his head.  
  
“It's not funny!” He growls at Richie, jabbing one finger in his direction. “My dad may believe in second chances but there's no way he's going to be happy about me tutoring a Bang Baby. You know how much he worries.”  
  
“I don't know why. You've proved you can take care of yourself, or at least stay alive long enough for me to save your ass. Your dad should try and remember that,” Richie says, shrugging, and it's true that ever since the metahuman told his father about being Static, he's been a lot better about letting Virgil do what needs to be done. But that doesn't mean he's ever been very happy about it and this is definitely going to rile him up.  
  
“He's my pops; it's his job to worry, and I can't fight off Hotstreak without revealing my secret so he might actually be right this time,” Virgil tells the blond with a sigh. “You're the genius, I don't suppose you have some irrefutable logic that I can use to keep him off my back?”  
  
“Sorry bro, don't think I can help you there,” Richie refuses, though he doesn't actually sound all that apologetic. “I mean, you know I'll support you in this just like all your other plans, but I still think you should have left Hotstreak to rot after everything he's done to us. Why did you agree to this craziness anyway? That guy was practically your nemesis, so rain or not, you could have said no.”  
  
“I don't know," Virgil answers, shrugging as he tries to put his thoughts in order. “I just... I think I believe him.” While the teen still has some doubts that Hotstreak will manage to stay out of trouble, he simply can't shake the feeling that the other Bang Baby is sincere about the attempt.  
  
 _I mean, h_ _e was sort of paying attention in class and he actually seemed offended when Ms. Chan implied he was an idiot. Plus if he was faking, why would he have bothered to be nice?_   Virgil wonders, thinking about how the other metahuman had dried his clothes. _Sure he's still a bit of a jerk, yeah, but he spent all of lunch with us and he seemed to be enjoying himself. Who knew he cared so much about highlighters? That's a lot of effort to put in for a lie and it's not like he knows I'm Static so this can't be some secret plan to throw me off my game. Even if it might be working._  
  
Of course, Hotstreak could just be planning to use him as a convenient alibi and keep committing crimes on the side, but something about the way the other metahuman had been acting this morning makes Virgil think that's not the case.  
  
So he shrugs again, choosing to ignore his friend's continuing incredulity. These days it's rare for he and Richie to disagree on superhero matters and truthfully the teen doesn't like it, but as long as the blond still has his back then he doesn't need to understand. He just needs to follow Virgil's lead for now and if he's right, Richie will come around eventually. “Honestly I can't really explain it, but I'd never forgive myself if he was telling the truth and went back to prison because I wouldn't give him a chance.”  
  
“Fine. Fine.” As Virgil hoped he would, Richie sighs and gives in, waving one hand dismissively. “I still think this is nuts but if I can't convince you to let Hotstreak suffer like he deserves, then I'll help you keep him straight. However, if this turns out to be some kind of long con, I am so going to say I told you so. And you're on your own with your dad.”  
  
“Fair enough, bro. If I were you I'd probably think the same,” Virgil tells him, smiling to show Richie that there's no resentment here. “Now I guess it's time to face the music,” he adds before pushing open the door and walking into his house.  
  
“Hey pops! Are you home?” The teen calls out and when both Sharon and his father turn out to be sitting at the kitchen table, he can't decide whether to feel relief or dread.  
  
So Virgil delays instead.  
  
He mumbles a return greeting as he and Richie toss their bags on the stairs and then join the rest of his family in the kitchen, where the teen forces his usual cheeky smirk onto his face. His sister rolls her eyes at him and he snipes right back, thankful for the extra distraction. But their fights lack the spite they used to have when they were younger and the pair quiets immediately as soon as their dad narrows his eyes. “Thank you children. Now, son, Richie, how was your day?” He asks and Virgil knows his time is up.  
  
“Uh, yeah about that... Something happened this morning which I need to talk to you about," the teen says awkwardly. He pauses, trying to figure out how to continue and ends up stumbling over his words when his father looks at him with worry in his eyes. “No, it's nothing dangerous. Well, not really dangerous... maybe. You see... um... did you know Hotstreak was out of jail?”  
  
“What?!” Sharon yells in disbelief. “Shouldn't he have been put away for life by now? That kid was nothing but trouble even before the Bang made him dangerous.”  
  
“Isn't that a little harsh?” Virgil replies, though he can't say exactly why her words annoy him so much considering that Richie has been giving him the same arguments all day and dangerous is kind of an understatement. “I mean, I know he's a punk but he's never seriously hurt anyone. At least not after he stopped trying to kick my ass. Really it's been mostly petty theft for years and don't you work with delinquents all the time? Rehabilitating guys like him is your job so you shouldn't be so damn skeptical all the time.”  
  
His vehemence leaves his sister gaping while Richie just sinks lower in his chair and so Mr. Hawkins steps in to find out what the heck is going on. “Son? Why are you defending him? I thought you hated this Francis kid.”  
  
“Well hate is a strong word...” the teen prevaricates, pausing again until his dad says his name in that special tone he has and Virgil cracks. “Okay, fine. So I may have agreed to help Hotstreak graduate, which means he's going to be over here studying a few times a week. Quite a few times. Maybe every day.”  
  
“He's what?! But he's a mutant pyromaniac. What if he attacks us?” Sharon shrieks and Virgil winces at the pitch she reaches.  
  
“Hotstreak's not going to do anything, sis. He'd get sent back to jail immediately and I think he's serious about changing his ways. Rubberband Man did and you thought he was dreamy.” _And I'm so glad those days are over. That was sickening to watch._  
  
She just huffs and Virgil knows that he's won for now, though she'll probably make herself scarce whenever the other metahuman is around. At least his father hasn't started yelling at him, even if he doesn't seem particularly overjoyed about the news. In fact, there's a definite frown growing on his face and when Virgil pauses for breath, his dad asks: “Are you sure about this son? You know I do believe in giving everyone a second chance but Francis has been a criminal as long as you've known him. Why would he suddenly have a change of heart?”  
  
“Hotstreak's eighteen now, which makes all the difference in court and he knows that. So while he may be a delinquent, that doesn't mean he wants to go to jail for the rest of his life and I know he doesn't want to lose his powers,” the superhero tells his father seriously, letting a hint of the certainty he uses as Static seep into his voice.  
  
It seems to work because after a long moment of consideration his dad sighs and nods his head. “All right Virg. I'll trust your judgment and give the kid a chance for now. But I expect you to watch him closely while he's here and I want to meet him for myself.”  
  
“Of course pops, I'll bring him by tomorrow. Thanks,” Virgil says, rather surprised that everyone has given in so easily but he's not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. “I'm like 90% sure that everything will be fine.”  
  
Which is of course when Richie pokes him in the back and hisses under his breath, “V there's something you need to see.” So the superhero makes his excuses and the two teens run up to his room, where they shut the door tightly behind them so that the blond can set Backpack on the desk. The little robot is going crazy and Richie pulls up his viewscreen to see what it has to say.  
  
“What's going on?” Virgil asks as the robot gives off a series of clicks and beeps that he knows will actually mean something to his friend. Richie keeps trying to teach him to interpret his creation but the teen has yet to pick up more than a few key alarms and codes. Though this pattern actually does sound vaguely familiar and a bad feeling begins to form in his gut when he realizes why.  
  
“It's Hotstreak isn't it?” He asks, swearing under his breath when the blond looks up triumphantly and nods. “Yeah it is. I told you he was bad news. He's using his powers already.”  
  
But while the superhero knows that Backpack isn't making a mistake, not about something like this, he just can't believe that the other metahuman has broken his promise already. _Dammit, it just doesn't make any sense. It hasn't even been a whole day yet and I really thought he was sincere... I must be losing my touch. Although..._  
  
“Where is he?” Virgil asks and when Richie names a location over in the warehouse district he feels a spark of hope. “Look, don't call anyone yet. Let me go check it out before you jump to any conclusions and you know just because he's burning stuff doesn't mean I'm wrong.”  
  
His friend agrees, though the blond gives him a weird look as he pulls out his spare costume and starts to change but honestly the superhero can't really blame him. Virgil doesn't know where this weird certainty has come from either because if anyone had asked him even yesterday if he thought Hotstreak could change, the answer would have been an emphatic “hell no.” Yet now his feelings on the matter have done a complete one-eighty and he has no idea why.  
  
 _Maybe it's just pops' endless harping on forgiveness finally coming home to roost or that weird hint of vulnerability that I thought I saw... Well first things first, I better find out which of us is right and hope I don't have to eat my words._  
  
Virgil slides his mask into place and sticks it on with a spark of electricity, the weight of his responsibility settling firmly on his shoulders. He always feels like a different person once he's in costume, the world sharper and more straightforward, clearer lines between what's right and wrong. He feels stronger, ready to handle whatever life throws at him and he relishes the chance to use his powers without fear of recognition.  
  
Since it's no longer raining, Static hops on his disc and flies toward the edge of town, Richie calling directions through his ear piece until the superhero can see the flames for himself. Hotstreak is standing in an empty lot, throwing fireballs at the discarded cars and he doesn't even notice when the other metahuman drops lightly to the fence.  
  
“You can stand down Gear, he's just blowing off steam,” the teen mutters, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. The redhead still hasn't seen him, so the superhero takes this chance to watch his one-time nemesis and finds himself admiring the other's aim, _and only his aim, even if I've never seen him grin like that before_. In the past, he had always been too busy dodging Hotstreak's fireballs to appreciate his precision, but now he has to admit that the guy's actually got skills.  
  
 _Damn! That was a nice shot,_ he thinks, watching the redhead knock a piece of junk out of the air and he's almost sorry when the other metahuman powers down. Static waits a little longer to ensure that Hotstreak actually is finished before he makes himself known and keeps his voice steady, not wanting to start a fight if he can avoid it.  
  
The redhead seems to have the same idea for while their banter is as snarky as always, the older teen makes no sudden movements and he keeps his hands in sight. It's weird to see the difference in Hotstreak's manner now that he's facing Static instead of Virgil, stiff and wary in a way that he wasn't before. However, his story is the same and even though the superhero keeps his words skeptical, _not like this version of me has any reason to believe him,_ he leaves the pyro with nothing more than a warning and a look of confusion on his face.  
  
Because he's already in costume, Static figures that he might as well patrol, especially since the foreseeable future is looking rather packed. So he calls Gear out to join him and the two spend an easy afternoon keeping Dakota safe. Ever since Ebon disappeared, the streets have been relatively quiet but they still stop a few petty thieves from jacking an SUV and being seen is half the point.  
  
People need to know that they have someone watching out for them so that they can live without fear and whenever he sees a wide-eyed child staring up at him, something warm curls in his chest. That's why Static does this when a more sensible person would have walked away. It's more than the thrill he gets from using his powers and the awe in their eyes, it's the knowledge that every person he saves means another kid who won't have to grow up without a parent. Another child who will have a chance at life.  
  
He's never told that to anyone, not even Richie, but he thinks his friend understands since Gear has been with him the whole way. No matter their disagreements, the two of them have always managed to make it through all right and Static has faith that the blond will help him sort out his current Hotstreak issue as they've conquered all the rest.  
  
 _Hey, if anyone can keep a former criminal Bang Baby on the straight and narrow long enough to get him a diploma, it's the two of us. We just have to keep him from finding out our secret identities along the way and he should be convinced that I'm not Static after that whole ruse years ago._  
  
So the superhero is feeling optimistic as they finish their rounds, head back to the Gas Station to drop off their gear and then return to the more normal half of their lives. It's always strange to switch back to being Virgil, swapping out the protection of the city in exchange for the protection of his grade from Mrs. Dietrich's red marking pen as soon as his mask comes off.  
  
Although, even in this the two friends are not exactly normal teenagers seeing as Richie completes his work in minutes and the Virgil isn't all that far behind despite giving his books to Hotstreak this afternoon. These unique skills are the only reason that either of them has managed to keep up their grades while leading double lives, these skills and some judicious begging on Virgil's part when he simply doesn't have time to complete everything himself.  
  
Whenever that happens, the teen tells himself that it's not really cheating since he has a damn good reason, although he also made Richie promise never to mention those essays to his father cause he definitely won't see it the same way. However, at the moment homework is rather far from his mind as the two friends are chilling in front of the television, watching old comic book movies and laughing at everything Hollywood gets wrong.  
  
“Man can you imagine if it were really like that?” Virgil asks with a grin when the hero flies off into the sunset with his damsel in his arms. “Maybe then Daisy wouldn't have dumped me for missing too many dates.”  
  
“I think that only works if you actually tell her your secret identity, bro. Otherwise you just seem like a shitty boyfriend which is why she dumped your late ass,” Richie says with a laugh, throwing popcorn at the other teen from where he's sprawled out on the couch.  
  
“Hey, at least I've had a girlfriend,” he retorts before sobering as he stops to think it over. “Even if I haven't had time to go on a date in a while... a few months... maybe years.” _Damn, has it really been years? Man I need to get a life._  
  
“It's not so bad, V. Superheroes just don't have a lot of time to date. We're lucky to keep our lives together without trying to add significant others to the mix. I mean we haven't even had time to hang out like this in ages.”  
  
Hearing this, Virgil realizes that the other teen is right and despite the fact that they spend most of their time together, they haven't had a chance to just be friends in far too long. Which is particularly weird considering that things have been so quiet lately but they are Seniors now and somehow time keeps slipping away. But he's determined that that's going to change now that he noticed it. “Yeah, we should do this more often.”  
  
However, his friend doesn't seem so sure, shaking his head in disbelief. “Like that's going to happen with Hotstreak around. We'll be lucky to even hang out as much as we do now and it's gonna have to be all code words and shit again.”  
  
While the blond may have a point about the code words, Virgil is hardly going to let Hotstreak get between him and his best friend and so he says exactly that. “Don't be silly Richie, nothing's going to change.”

 


	4. A Rhythm of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get angsty and denial is a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this fic is taking its sweet time about going anywhere, I may just have to write a smutty oneshot to tide me over through the angst. Assuming anyone would be interested in that.

For the first few weeks, Virgil keeps his promise easily because Hotstreak fits into his life with nary a ripple to show that he wasn't there before. This shift begins on Tuesday morning, which finds the redhead waiting in front of the high school, an astonishing amount of his homework actually complete.  
  
Richie gapes at the pyro when he pulls a large stack of books and notebooks from his ragged backpack and Hotstreak smirks at the confusion in his eyes. However, it is Virgil whom he waits for and his smirk shifts into a slightly more honest smile when the other teen drawls out, “Well I suppose I am mildly impressed. Maybe you have a chance of graduating after all.”  
  
His words are a little more sarcastic than the redhead probably deserves since the teen actually is rather impressed by the other's dedication. However, Virgil had decided the night before that his best chance at success is making Hotstreak work for it because the pyro has never been able to back down from a challenge. Besides, it's a great excuse to keep his distance and he needs a bit of space between them if he's going to convince himself that all that blushing was a fluke.  
  
 _But it totally was because looking at him now is hardly making me swoon. He's actually kinda funny looking with those stripes in his hair and his sleeves all ripped like that. So it must have just been the surprise or something, confusing me before._  
  
Virgil's excellent attempt at rationalization is interrupted when the redhead replies to his needling with a smug, “I told you I was serious about this,” and the words remind him that they should really be moving on.  
  
However, Richie is still gaping, as are quite a few of the other students in the courtyard, so it's up to Virgil to get the three of them moving once again. So he elbows the blond in the side and shoves him forward, determined not to be late for a second time that week. Once they're inside the building, he leaves his friend at the lockers since they don't share first period and then drags Hotstreak into their government class just before the first bell rings.  
  
Old Mr. Grant is in fact so old that he hardly even notices them and the teen is relieved to avoid the near interrogatory explanations that the other teachers had put him through. Not that the rest of their classmates give them the same respect and after being stared at for an hour, Virgil is feeling rather sympathetic toward the way Hotstreak starts to glare and grind his teeth. So he distracts the redhead with carefully placed barbs until the other teen is more focused on him than his annoyance and they manage to finish class without anyone getting singed.  
  
At least the next period is slightly easier since these students have had a day to get used to the idea and they don't gawk quite so much. Even better, Richie is there to help distract Mrs. Dietrich's piercing eyes and the entire class warms up a bit when Hotstreak actually manages to answer one of her pointed questions and she faints back into her chair, unconsciousness quickly turning into a snore-filled sleep.  
  
Since she's no one's favorite teacher, the students let her sleep until the next bell rings and even the most over-achieving geeks appreciate the reprieve. So as they walk to their next class some of the stares are more thankful than frightened and even if this doesn't last, the change gives Virgil hope.  
  
If kids whom Hotstreak used to terrorize out of their minds will forgive him for it in exchange for some amusement, then the pyro may actually have a chance to turn his life around. People in Dakota aren't exactly known for their acceptance, but they also have short memories and as long as Virgil can keep the redhead acting the part, everyone will forget about his sordid past before too long. _It worked for Rubberband Man didn't it? Though he at least already had fans._  
  
Virgil gets momentarily distracted by the horrifying thought of the pyro getting groupies like the ones that sometimes try and follow Static around, but he comes back to himself when Hotstreak nudges him in the side. He looks up and sees the other standing far too close, eyes sparkling with amusement and suddenly the metahuman cannot breathe.  
  
 _I never noticed his eyes were green,_ the teen thinks muzzily before stepping back and putting an arm's length between them. Virgil successfully fights down another blush by thinking of deeply unsexy things and shoves his new realization back behind another wall of denial as he follows Hotstreak into their next class.  
  
Thankfully it's physics and the frustration of attempting to explain their current experiment to the redhead soon wipes out any kind of weird admiration. So as far as he's concerned, the other teen will be staying firmly in the friend zone and keeping a bit of separation between them seems to do the trick.  
  
\---  
  
Once the school day is finally over, Virgil has other things to worry about because he's soon standing in front of his house with the pyro at his back. The metahuman hasn't been this nervous since his father found out that he was Static and he tries to tell himself that this is just as likely to go well. Strangely, Hotstreak also seems twitchy but before the teen can ask him why, the front door swings open with a creak.  
  
“Sorry boys, I got tired of waiting,” says Mr. Hawkins in the doorway. “I'm Virgil's father and you must be Francis Stone. It's good to meet you.”  
  
He holds out a hand and after only a moment of hesitation, the pyro reaches out to shake it, not even bothering to correct his dad on the name. Instead the redhead responds with a quiet, “You too, sir,” while Virgil looks on in surprise. _Must be trying to make a good impression, or more nervous than I thought,_ the teen thinks as his father ushers the two of them inside.  
  
They head into the kitchen for this conversation and it will be private, since Sharon had refused to be around Hotstreak until their dad had cleared the pyro and Richie is out patrolling on his own. However, while Virgil is quite happy to be free from his sister's judgmental glances, this also means that there's no one else to use as a buffer against his father and he soon pins the redhead beneath his gaze.  
  
“So, Francis, what exactly do you want from my son? He seems to believe that you're going straight and asked for his help. However, you'll have to excuse me if I have trouble believing that you plan to change after all this time.” Virgil is surprised by the harshness of his father's words since he thought they had already discussed this and the way that Hotstreak seems to shrink beneath that glare actually kind of worries him.  
  
However, before he can say anything about the way this conversation is going, the other teen replies. “Of course I understand it, sir. I think he's the only one who has actually believed me, but it's the truth. I turned eighteen a month ago so the next time I screw up, they'll lock me up and throw away the key. I may not be a genius, but I know that.”  
  
“All right, I suppose I can see the logic behind that and if you are lying at least you're consistent,” his father replies, voice softening slightly. “But why should my son help you? Surely you have a friend or relative who could assist you with the transition instead of him?”  
  
Virgil winces again, realizing that there were a few things he left out of his explanation, but for once the pyro doesn't fly off the handle at the mention of his relatives. Instead he only flinches slightly and explains, “Um, not exactly. Most of my friends are already in jail or headed that way, if they were ever really my friends at all and I don't have any family....” Hotstreak pauses uncomfortably for a long moment, before continuing in a rush of breath. “My dad left when I was a kid and my mother overdosed before I started high school, so I haven't had anyone in years.”  
  
The other teen cannot hide his choked gasp at this news, the memories of his own mother's death still sharp even after all of these years have passed. Virgil's father is startled as well, though when he reaches out as if to pat the redhead's hand, the pyro bristles.  
  
“Don't fucking pity me,” he snarls, giving Virgil a vivid flashback to their old antagonistic days. “I survived just fine without them or anybody else.” However, while Hotstreak's words are vicious, his eyes are strangely vulnerable and the other teen suddenly wonders, _how much of his fury is an attempt to hide his weakness? Like an animal lashing out when cornered and in pain._  
  
This still doesn't make his actions excusable, but Virgil had been a mess for months after his mother was shot. He understands the impulse to fight the grief with anger and without his family there to support him, he might have lost himself for good.  
  
However, the teen is also pretty sure that offering sympathy now would make the redhead punch him and he's already had enough of that in his life. Virgil's father seems to come to the same conclusion, or simply has the skill of long experience, because he waits patiently for Hotstreak to regain his calm.  
  
Eventually the pyro pulls himself together enough to continue and his glare dares anyone to comment on the minor freakout he just had. “Anyway, Virgil's always been one of the good kids so I thought if anyone could help show me how to be less of a delinquent, it'd be him. And the cops wouldn't let me back in school without someone to vouch for me.”  
  
“Understandable.” Virgil's father nods sagely. “Although, I do wonder why the police thought that my son was a suitable stand-in for a real adult.”  
  
“Because they're fucking incompetent and my parole officer's a joke,” Hotstreak snorts bitterly before remembering that he has an audience that he doesn't want to offend. “I mean, uh, I may have mentioned you as a good influence. Since you work with troubled youth a lot and all.”  
  
“I see.” At this point Virgil has no idea what his father is thinking since he hardly recognizes the stern man who's sitting at their table, but at least he's starting to sound a bit more conciliatory. So hopefully this strange discussion will end with permission to continue with his mission after all. Not that the metahuman understands why exactly he's so determined to see this through, but the teen made a promise and he means to keep it if he can.  
  
And it seems that he will have his chance because eventually his dad nods firmly. “All right, son. I can hardly deny that you're a good influence so you can continue helping Francis turn his life around as long as he keeps his end of the bargain. However, I expect to know where the two of you are at all times when you're together and if anything illegal happens, that is the end if it,” he says, before turning to Hotstreak and adding, “This is your second chance. Don't waste it.”  
  
“I won't Mr. Hawkins,” the redhead promises quietly and now that they've finished their business, Virgil would seriously like this conversation to be over. He had been expecting an introduction not a fucking emotional roller coaster, and he needs time to process everything he heard.  
  
So the teen ushers Hotstreak out of the house and promises that they'll start their tutoring tomorrow, before finally blurting out, “What was that? The politeness and the **sharing**?”  
  
 _Aah, crap. This is why Richie always says I need a better brain to mouth filter. He's going to hit me now for sure._ However, while Virgil can't stop himself from flinching when the redhead turns around, the other teens seems more tired than angry. “Some of the guys I used to run with would hang around your father's center. They always said that Mr. Hawkins was one old fool it was safer not to mess with and if I piss him off too badly, he could make you stop helping me. So I was polite...ish.”  
  
“And the sharing?” Virgil asks hesitantly.  
  
“Is none of your goddamn business,” Hotstreak retorts. “But it wasn't lies and if sharing and caring will keep me out of prison, then I'll do whatever it takes. It worked, didn't it?”  
  
“Yeah I guess it did,” the other metahuman sighs, but lets the pyro end that line of conversation and he waves goodbye before heading back inside. His father is still in the kitchen, staring thoughtfully at his cup of coffee, but he raises his head when his son sits back down.  
  
“Well that was interestingh” he says and the understatement makes Virgil want to laugh hysterically. “But I think I can see why you want to help him and I'll support you as best I can.”  
  
“Really? Thanks pops. But what was with all the doubts and threats anyway? I thought you had already agreed to let me help him and you know I can take care of myself.” the teen asks, letting a bit of his confusion bleed into his voice.  
  
However, his dad just smiles and shakes his head. “Of course I know that son, but Francis doesn't and we want to keep it that way. It would be suspicious if I let you hang out with a known criminal without worrying at all and believe it or not, kids like that are more comfortable when they know what the boundaries are.”  
  
“If you say so.” The pyro had never seemed like one to appreciate any restrictions at all, but Virgil will trust his father's judgment for now. _And I guess he has tried to meet every one of my requirements, so maybe dad isn't too far off.  Though I think I'll stick to framing mine like challenges for now._  
  
His grudging agreement marks the end of that discussion and the teen soon heads up to his room to get started on his homework. That evening when Richie stops by after finishing his patrol, Virgil tells the blond all about the odd conversation and what his father had said. He even mentions what happened to Hotstreak's parents, although he hesitates before including that.  
  
It seems too personal a confession to share, even with his best friend, but at the same time, he wants to know if it's the truth. Virgil **needs** to know because that sorrow hits too close to home and he refuses to face his own grief again if it was all a pretty lie.  
  
However, Richie verifies the information with one quick search on Backpack, having hacked into pretty much every database there is some time ago. At this confirmation, Virgil isn't sure whether to be pleased or devastated, because while the teen is happy to know Hotstreak didn't lie to them, he wouldn't wish that pain on anyone. Even someone whom he used to hate.  
  
His friend senses his melancholic mood and doesn't elaborate on what he found, although knowing Richie, he probably could. Instead he just mutters, “well that sucks,” and throws one arm across Virgil's shoulders. Then the blond starts chattering on about his last patrol and the other teen lets his voice wash over him, the white noise helping to chase the ghosts away. Eventually Virgil reminds himself that Hotstreak wouldn't want to be treated any differently and shakes off his weird mood enough to engage Richie in a debate of Zap-Cap tactics until they're called down to eat.  
  
It is only later when the teen is on the edge of sleep, that he remembers the vulnerability in the redhead's eyes and admits to himself that, in that moment, he had wanted to hold the other tight.  
  
\---  
  
This first day sets the stage for the weeks which follow and soon their lives settle into a rhythm of sorts. Every morning, like clockwork, the three teens meet up in front of the school and Virgil shepherds Hotstreak through his classes, a task that gets easier with time.  
  
For once the emotional volatility of teenagers works in their favor because while some of the students remain wary, most of their classmates move on to other dramas soon enough. Even the teachers get used to having the pyro in their classes and stop bring so surprised when he successfully answers any of their questions, though Mrs. Dietrich refuses to give up her glares.  
  
When lunch comes, the pair meets back up with Richie and while he and Hotstreak haven't exactly become friends, they seem to enjoy needling each other. It's an odd sort of relationship, built on mutual dislike and tutoring, but Virgil isn't going to mess with it so long as it works.  
  
He needs the two of them to get along if he's going to stay sane through this school year, particularly when the pyro begins to join them outside of school as well. Not at first, because Virgil tries to keep these parts of his life separate and he did tell Richie that they'd try to hang out more as friends. But Hotstreak never has anywhere else to go and in all honestly, the other teen is kind of afraid to let the pyro out of his sight for too long given how often he's had to talk him down.  
  
So without really meaning to, Virgil starts inviting him along until it's rare that he and Richie go somewhere without the other teen also being there. Sure he scrapes out some time for hanging out and patrolling on the weekends when he sends Hotstreak off to do his homework but it's not really what he promised. However, at least Richie seems to enjoy the tutoring so it's not like he's blowing his friend off entirely, and this helps to alleviate his guilt.  
  
In fact, the tutoring is going rather well and for several hours after school each day, textbooks are spread across Virgil's kitchen table as the redhead's studying moves along in leaps and bounds. While the teen will never be a fantastic student, he's certainly not the failure that everybody thought and Virgil starts to believe that they might pull this thing off after all.  
  
As long as Hotstreak keeps doing his homework, and the other teen plans to ensure that if it kills him, then the pyro should be able to earn Cs in most of his classes without too much of a struggle. He may even manage a B in history or econ and gym is an easy A for a guy like him. Virgil has to admit that he doesn't really understand how the redhead is squeaking by in calculus, but he seems to have a knack for memorizing formulas and Mr. Williams never puts too many word problems on the tests.  
  
So really it's only physics that's still holding the pyro back from wearing his cap and gown and they've got months yet to sort that out. Although, Virgil is increasingly certain that they're going to need those months, because nothing he says seems to get the concept of acceleration into Hotstreak's skull.  
  
The last thing the teen wants to do is tutor the redhead all the way to June and then have him fail to graduate because of one freaking class. However, when they discuss their options, the pyro seems determined to earn his diploma instead of his G.E.D and Virgil hardly wants to stop him from being enthusiastic about his grades. Besides, he doubts that Hotstreak is planning on going to college and if it's all he has, graduating would look better to employers anyway. Not that they've had the job conversation yet because Virgil has enough on his plate without trying to plan the other teen's future as well.  
  
Though in all honesty, what scares him most about that discussion is how easy it's becoming to picture Hotstreak staying in his life after the promised year has passed. And the closer they get to being friends, the clearer this image grows.  
  
 _Admittedly, it's a friendship built on secrets and omission and never talking about our issues, but somehow it still feels like a friendship anyway. And maybe if we do stay friends long enough for him to earn my secret, his past will balance out my lies. Wouldn't that be a sight, Hotstreak and Static flying around to save the day? And Gear if he's around._  
  
This thought is little more than a fantasy since the pyro hasn't mentioned any desire of that sort and just because he wants to keep his powers, that doesn't mean he wants to join the hero brigade. But it would be nice to have another ally since Richie plans to go away for college and the two of them are already stretched thin with the effort of juggling two lives. Sure they can call on the Justice League when things go really sour, but Static hates the way they always seem to judge him for it, and Rubberband Man is too busy with his music to sit around on call.  
  
At least the worst of the Bang Babies have already been dealt with, but there's always some crazy super-powered bastard showing up just at the wrong moment and Virgil doesn't really want to fight without someone to watch his back. _Because Hotstreak is so fucking trustworthy. Get a grip V, help him pass physics and then we'll worry about creating miracles._  
  
However, no matter how Virgil tries to ignore these thoughts, they are always floating there in the back of his mind. These thoughts and others which he doesn't want to admit to and the teen also becomes much better friends with denial as the days pass by.  
  
Because that strange fluttering in his stomach only gets stronger and every time the redhead touches him, Virgil's cheeks begin to burn. So the teen builds his walls ever higher and hides those thoughts behind them, patching up the cracks as they erode. He blames his blushing on embarrassment, the heat, or teenage hormones and pretends that he believes it to be true. And pretending works as long as Virgil doesn't think too hard about it, and he's determined not to think on this at all.  
  
Until Hotstreak goes and does something completely unexpected and tears all his denial down.

 


	5. Bullets and Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter was so difficult to write, though the fact that it's nearly twice as long as any other may have something to do with it. I also don't know why everyone insists on being so angsty- this story really was supposed to be more light-hearted but everyone wants to talk about their issues instead.

When he thinks about it later, Virgil decides that everything is definitely Richie's fault since his friend is the one who suggests going to the mall that weekend. Or the teen could blame it on his dad instead, because the moment that changes everything can be traced back to another conversation in the kitchen on one Wednesday night.  
  
The Hawkins family always seems to have their most important discussions around that dining table, a habit left over from when his mother was alive, although this one doesn't seem particularly significant at first. Virgil has just been venting about Hotstreak's inability to grasp the slightest bit of physics and by the time they finish eating dinner, Sharon looks ready to smack her brother if that would shut him up. Honestly, the teen doesn't think his father is really listening to him either, but at least he's polite enough to smile and nod along.  
  
“It's just so aggravating,” Virgil groans, tugging at his hair in frustration and ignoring the sighs of his captive audience. “I mean it's gravity and acceleration not rocket science and he's somehow passing calculus so this really shouldn't be that hard.”  
  
“He's probably cheating off you; the kid's a delinquent idiot who should be sent back to jail,” Sharon mutters snidely on her way out of the room and Virgil's temper flares.  
  
“What is your problem, sis?” The teen shouts, one hand slamming into the table. “Hotstreak hasn't done anything for weeks now and you're still being a total bitch. Why can't you just give him a break?”  
  
“Maybe I'm worried about **you** , little brother. Did you ever think of that?” Sharon yells back and Virgil's mouth drops open in surprise. “ I've seen his type a hundred times before and it always ends the same. You're getting way too invested in this guy's success and we're the ones who will have to pick up the pieces when he finally lets you down.” She stomps out of the kitchen before her brother can form a reply and he slumps back down in his chair, the wind knocked from his sails.  
  
 _I didn't know she felt like that,_ the teen thinks, feeling slightly guilty about the way that he had yelled. _I suppose she does see the worst offenders in her job, but why can't she simply trust me and give Hotstreak a chance?_  
  
To be fair, Virgil may be leaning too far in the other direction considering that everyone around him seems to think he's being foolish and the doubting voice in his head often agrees. However, if the teen was in the habit of being sensible, he would never have become a superhero, and he's seen Bang Babies change their lives before.  
  
So when his father opens his mouth to speak, the metahuman cuts him off with a sigh, “Are you going to chew me out too? Give me another lecture on how Hotstreak simply has to be evil at heart.”  
  
Though it seems that this conversation is destined to be full of surprises because his dad shakes his head and replies with a firm, “Of course not. While I understand your sister's concerns, Francis has kept his nose clean since he got out and I've been around long enough to know that even delinquents try to meet your expectations. Your belief that he can change is one of the strongest factors in this kid's favor so I'd be a fool to make you throw that away, and if all your effort fails in the end, I'll support you through the pain. That said, Sharon might relax somewhat if you told her the truth.”  
  
While the pride in his father's words warms Virgil's heart, that last comment opens up a whole new can of worms. Or actually an old one, since his dad has been on the teen to tell his sister about Static ever since the old man found out, but that's one point on which the metahuman has no intention of giving in.  
  
“You know I can't risk her like.” He replies, rehashing the argument that they've had so many times before. “Even if she didn't freak out, it would only take one slip to get her killed- look at what happened to you when Omnara figured out who I was.”  
  
As always, his father doesn't have a good answer for that, but the older man also doesn't surrender the battle without a fight. “You shouldn't lie to the ones you love,” he says disapprovingly and Virgil winces at the censure in his gaze. However, then his father changes the subject, asking, “So what have you tried so far? I used to be a fair hand at physics in my day.”  
  
It's an obvious attempt to lighten the conversation, but the teen is grateful for the reprieve and truthfully, he's always happy to talk about Hotstreak these days. Besides, if his dad can help him figure something out, that would be one huge weight off his mind. So Virgil tells him about the lesson plans and the tutoring and the many varied ways in which his attempts have failed, before resting his head against the table with a sigh. “He's really not an idiot like most people think, but it's like something just isn't clicking in his brain. Though he must have some understanding of acceleration and the rest or he wouldn't be such a damn good shot with those fireballs of his.”  
  
“Hmm, that's an interesting point,” his father muses, looking at his son thoughtfully. “What about trying a more hands-on approach? There's nothing like a few explosions to keep a teenager interested in science and being able to use his abilities might help Francis overcome whatever is blocking him from understanding now.”  
  
“Wait, you **want** me to let Hotstreak light stuff on fire?” Virgil asks incredulously, though he has to admit that the point seems sound. _If nothing else, it would certainly be different and might help to convince him that studying can be fun._  
  
“Well it's not exactly my first choice,” the older man admits. “But part of Francis' rehabilitation is teaching him to use his powers responsibly, so this would be a good opportunity to check on his control. In fact, in the name of second chances, tell him that I'll hire him part time at my center if he passes your next test.”  
  
“Really?” The teen beams, all his earlier annoyance forgotten. “I was worried that even if I managed to get him his diploma, no one would trust Hotstreak enough to hire him and he'd have to go back to robbing people just to pay his bills. But with you as a reference someone will have to give him a chance for sure... and maybe Static can help tip the scales in his favor too.”  
  
“You do realize I'm only going to give him a reference if he actually does the job well?” His father says, always the voice of reason, but even he can't dampen Virgil's mood right now. _I mean, I know I promised myself I wouldn't try to plan out Hotstreak's life, but this doesn't mean I shouldn't try to give him options. Really, there's no reason not to take the opportunity that pops is offering, assuming his crazy plan works out._  
  
So the teen spends the rest of the evening lost in rampant speculation and he barely notices when his fantasies drift into actual dreams.  
  
\---  
  
Virgil has to wait until the weekend to take his father's advice and he's nearly bouncing with anticipation as he leads the redhead toward the edge of the city. He doesn't want an audience or innocent bystanders around for this, just in case everything goes horribly wrong, and the teen never thought that he would be glad for Dakota's excess of abandoned lots.  
  
But it's to one of these that the metahuman leads Hotstreak and although the redhead bitches about all the walking, Virgil can tell that he's intrigued by the promise of a surprise. In fact, the other teen looks sincerely disappointed when they stop in a rundown parking lot and he turns to his guide with a huff.  
  
“We're stopping here? I thought you had something cool to show me, but I got my hopes up for this crap?” Hotstreak says, waving one hand toward the cracked asphalt.  
  
“Don't be stupid, I'm not that much of a dick,” Virgil retorts, swinging his backpack off his shoulders. “This place isn't your surprise; I just needed to find somewhere that wasn't likely to burn down before we get started.”  
  
“Get started with what?” The pyro asks suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“Lighting shit on fire, of course,” he replies with a grin, pulling a handful of wooden discs from his pack. “I want to see what you can do.”  
  
“You... really?” Hotstreak says, eyes lighting up with glee. “You're not scared that I'm going to fry you or something?”  
  
“If you wanted to burn me, you would have done it already and I thought we deserved to have a little fun. Besides, I'm sure you're dying to use your powers again; I would be if it was me,” Virgil tells him, and while the redhead doesn't know the truth behind his words, he's happy to go along.  
  
They start off small, the pyro throwing flames at stationary targets placed around the lot and the teen soon discovers that he's having fun as well. In the past, Virgil had always been too busy dodging to really appreciate the nuances of Hotstreak's power, but now he's fascinated by all the different things the other teen can do.  
  
Not only can the pyro create fire just like Static does with electricity, but this ability is really only the tip of the iceberg. Or volcano maybe, given how the redhead throws his deadly missiles through the air with ease. But what Virgil finds most interesting is how Hotstreak can control the temperature of everything he touches, which is the same trick he used to dry them off on that first day. This is an ability with a score of applications and with a little experimenting, the teens discover that he can increase the heat of his flames as well until the parking lot is covered in melted slag.  
  
 _Whatever the Bang did to us, our gifts are a lot more complicated than most of the superheroes that I've met. Maybe Richie's crazy theory that they evolve with us is actually right. I mean look at me, I started out with the ability to move around metal and now it seems like I can do almost anything that's even remotely related to electricity._  
  
Virgil finds himself wondering just how many other abilities the pyro would discover with proper training and the teen suddenly wants nothing more than to see the kind of hero he would be. Because this is where Hotstreak belongs, eyes sparkling in the glow of his own fire, and the electricity sizzles beneath Static's skin at the sight. He wants to tell the other metahuman everything, pull off his masks and reveal the truth so they can finally meet on equal terms.  
  
Because for all that Richie is his best friend and possibly the most dangerous of them all, there's some things that the blond has never understood. He's never had this wild torrent of elemental power coursing through his veins; never had the same need to save people that drives Virgil to this day. Gear's true interest is invention and once he leaves for college, things will never be the same.  
  
He will come back, the superhero doesn't doubt it, but the two of them won't be partners the same way anymore. Richie will be the tech guy, the one coming up with gadgets and strategy, and with his eyes focused on future possibilities, the blond won't have time for the more hands-on approach.  
  
Virgil doesn't hate him for it, how can he when he just wants his friend to be happy, but sometimes the knowledge of what's to come fills him with loneliness. Perhaps that's why he's so invested in Hotstreak because something about the pyro makes the teen think that he would understand. He would understand the need to be right in the thick of it and if Virgil can just show him the joys of helping people, maybe he will have found another partner after all.  
  
Yet Virgil has spent so long protecting his identity that resisting temptation is practically second nature and his secret remains locked behind his teeth. He needs proof that he can trust the redhead, more proof than his irrational emotions, and honestly, the teen doesn't know if it will ever be enough.  
  
Even if Hotstreak stays on the straight and narrow, even if he and Static begin working together, Virgil doesn't know if he can cross that line. There's too much risk to those he cares about, too much opportunity for things to go wrong, and he has always been a coward at heart. Not with his own life or Virgil wouldn't have become a superhero, but he can't handle the thought of losing someone else he loves.  
  
However, the teen brought the other metahuman here to teach him something, not have an emotional crisis, and so with some effort he manages to get himself back under control. Thankfully, Hotstreak doesn't seem to have noticed his lapse because he takes Virgil at face value when the metahuman calls out, “Hey, let's try something a little more interesting.”  
  
“What did you have in mind?” The redhead asks, idly tossing a ball of fire from hand to hand.  
  
“I wanna see how you do with a moving target,” Virgil replies, pulling another handful of wooden discs from his pack and raising one eyebrow in challenge. Before long he's launching the target into the air for Hotstreak to strike and no matter how hard the teen throws them, the pyro never misses his shot.  
  
“Not bad at all,” the metahuman says after the tenth target disappears in a burst of flame, pausing to rest for a moment before finally coming clean. “Though I have to admit that I may have had an ulterior motive for bringing you out here. We're going to study physics, and you're going to get it if it kills me.”  
  
“Oh come on. Really?” The redhead groans. “I'm having way too much fun right now to ruin it with studying. Can't we just keep blowing things up instead?”  
  
“Don't worry, that's exactly what we're going to do,” the other teen replies with a grin. “Your aim is fantastic so you must have some idea of acceleration and trajectories locked in that brain of yours. All we're going to do is bring them to the surface so you can actually pass some tests.”  
  
Hotstreak looks skeptical but he goes along with it and as it turns out, Virgil's father was correct. With the added incentive of lighting things on fire, the redhead manages to stay focused when the other teen explains their current homework and miracle of miracles, they make some actual progress. Oh, the pyro hasn't suddenly become great at physics, but after a few hours he seems to at least grasp the basics and that's infinitely more than he understood before.  
  
When it starts to get dark, the two teens call it a day and walk back into town, chatting along the way. Their conversations always seem to flow easily despite the amount of snark and bitching that they engage in and before Virgil is ready to say goodbye, the pair comes to the point where their roads diverge.  
  
“I'll see you tomorrow right?” The teen asks as Hotstreak turns to leave. “We covered a lot of ground today but we should still study more before our test on Monday.”  
  
“Sure, I guess,” is the rather unenthusiastic reply, but that's as excited as the redhead ever gets about exams so it will do for now. In fact, Virgil counts that as a resounding yes compared to some of the answers he's gotten in the past, so he just grins and waves his goodbye before heading down his street.  
  
Later on that evening, the metahuman tells his father how it went and he grumbles when his dad laughs and says, “I told you so.” _Adults aren't supposed to be that smug when they're right,_ the teen thinks, though Virgil can't really get too pissed off since his dad's suggestion worked. And when Hotstreak shows up the next afternoon, the lessons appear to have stuck in his brain so the teen begins to believe that they might manage to conquer this last class after all.  
  
\---  
  
Virgil decides to wait until after the test on Monday to tell the redhead about his father's offer and when he sees how nervous the pyro is that morning, the teen knows that he made the right choice. Hotstreak tries to hide it of course, still not one to admit to any weaknesses, but the other metahuman has gotten good at seeing through his facade of arrogance.  
  
So he can tell that the pyro is worried by the way he glares at anyone who looks at him twice and the way that he swears loudly in the hall. However, Virgil doesn't say anything since calling attention to his concerns would only make the redhead embarrassed and to be honest, he's kind of nervous as well.  
  
While his grade is fine since he passed the last exam without any trouble, Hotstreak failed his miserably and they both know that the other teen only has so many chances left. Mrs. Lee just gives three tests and the final, which together count for eighty percent of their grades, so if the redhead fails this next one as well then his hope of graduation might as well be gone.  
  
Though at this point all Virgil can do is wish the pyro luck and pray that all their studying will finally pay off. _Or maybe I should just hope that teach has a breakdown and writes something easy for once in her life._  
  
Sadly this does not turn out to be the case and when Virgil flips his test over to read the first problem, he nearly gives up then and there. _Ahh, crap. Mrs. Lee really outdid herself this time,_ the teen thinks as he looks over the questions, all of which require involved short essay answers at the very least. But it is what it is, so he sharpens his pencil and bends his head to his task.  
  
Once the metahuman finishes his own exam, he leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling, waiting for the time to be up. From the corner of his eye, Virgil can see the redhead scribbling away furiously and in the seat next to him, Richie is tinkering with something on his desk.  
  
Most students would be called out for attempted cheating if they did something like that, but by now the teachers have given up on making the blond pay attention. He can answer all their questions from the top of his head anyway and no one is quite sure how to deal with genius like that. Even Virgil is a little unsettled sometimes by how fast his friend's mind works and the thought that he used to be the smart one almost seems unreal.  
  
But whatever sparks of jealousy he might feel never last because the teen cannot regret the gifts that the Bang gave him. Still, it would be nice if Richie's skills could be borrowed from time to time so Virgil wouldn't have to worry about Hotstreak anymore.  
  
Finally, Mrs. Lee calls time from the front of the classroom and the teen rushes to the redhead's side the moment the bell rings. To his surprise, the metahuman is grinning when Virgil reaches him and he throws one arm around the superhero's shoulder as they walk into the hall. “Well that sucked,” Hotstreak says cheerfully. “But the questions at least sort of made sense this time, which is more than they did before. So thanks, assuming my answers aren't all wrong, I might actually do okay.”  
  
“I'll believe it when I see it,” Richie mutters from Virgil's other side and laughs when the redhead growls. The teen lets his friends snipe at each other for a little while, face growing hot beneath the pyro's touch, and then he smacks them both on their arms.  
  
“Cut it out you two,” he says as they walk toward the exit. “I'm sure Hotstreak did fine, which reminds me, dad said he'd offer you a job if you passed this test.”  
  
“Seriously?” The redhead asks, flopping down at the base of the tree where they always eat lunch. “Why didn't you tell me that before? I might have studied harder.”  
  
“Didn't wanna psych you out,” Virgil tells him, sprawling out on the grass nearby. “Besides, you studied as hard as you could anyway so I doubt it would have made a difference. All we can do now is wait for Mrs. Lee to hand them back and see how you did. But anyway, should I tell pops that you'll accept?”  
  
“If I actually pass, sure,” Hotstreak snorts in agreement before he starts bickering with Richie again, and the third teen lays back to enjoy the lunchtime show.  
  
They don't discuss the situation again until Friday because Mrs. Lee doesn't finish grading their exams until then. But after a long speech about how everyone should have studied more, she finally starts handing the test papers back. These words do not exactly inspire optimism, though a quick glance shows Virgil that he did fine again while he waits for the redhead to get his. By the time their teacher makes it to the letter S, the teen's nerves are killing him and he pretty much stops breathing as Hotstreak looks at his grade.  
  
But then the redhead's face lights up and he turns to Virgil with a brilliant smile. It's the most open sign of happiness that the teen has ever seen on the pyro's face and something in him warms at the sight. _Beautiful_ , flickers likes a ghost across his mind before the thought is chased off by the redhead's voice.  
  
“I got a C!” He shouts, waving his exam toward Virgil. “Well a C-, but that's still passing so suck it! C'mon we should go do something to celebrate. I owe you lunch at least.”  
  
It's rather adorable how excited Hotstreak is and if Richie weren't there, the other teen would probably give in to his desire to play hooky right now. But the blond is a pillar of sensibility and convinces them both that going to the mall on Saturday would really be better. Well, he doesn't convince as much as dare the pyro that he can't last that long, but it's the same difference in the end.  
  
\---  
  
So the trio meets over on Main Street bright and early the next morning before heading over to the Jefferson Street Mall. The teens wander their way from store to store, mocking the expensive high-fashion clothing and drooling over the new upgraded phones.  
  
None of them actually has the money to buy one, Hotstreak's living stipend will barely cover lunch, but that doesn't stop them from trying out all the display models and generally making nuisances of themselves. They only leave once the clerks start giving them long-suffering sighs and annoyed glances, snickering together on their way out of the store.  
  
Then Virgil gets sidetracked by a book display and drags the other two in with him to look at what they have. Richie heads straight for the comics as always, though he'll probably duck over to the science textbooks soon enough, and despite his whining, the pyro disappears into the sci-fi section of the store. By the time Virgil looks up and realizes that it's been over an hour, he's absolutely starving, so the teen goes to look for Hotstreak.  
  
“I'm pretty sure you promised me lunch,” he says when he finds the redhead reading in a corner, and he has to laugh when the other metahuman jumps and glares. “I'm also pretty sure you're supposed to buy books before you finish them.”  
  
“Yeah, well. If they didn't want me to read in here they shouldn't have such comfy chairs,” the pyro retorts, standing up with a sigh before reluctantly sticking his novel back on the shelf. “And I did say I'd feed you, but Foley is on his own. I ain't got the money to fill that pit he calls a stomach.”  
  
“Fair enough.” They find Richie in the science section just like Virgil assumed and the three of them head down to the food court to see what's there this month. Dakota is not exactly a center of fine cuisine and the mall restaurants go in and out of business every other week, which means that eating here is often a culinary crap shoot.  
  
However, for once the choices aren't so bad. While the options may be fast food and more fast food, at least this time it's the good stuff instead of that weird over-processed swill. This makes Richie happy since knowing **everything** can be a downside to knowing everything and after some of the blond's horror stories, Virgil will never look at burgers the same way. But no one has managed to put him off pizza yet, so the teen orders himself two slices and starts in on them with a happy sigh.  
  
He's licking the sauce off of his fingers when he looks up and sees Hotstreak watching him, a strangely stunned expression on his face. However, before Virgil can figure out what it means, the look disappears beneath the redhead's usual smirk. And then he gets distracted further when Richie makes the completely ridiculous claim that the current issues of Captain America are obviously the best yet.  
  
“How can you say that? This arc is plotless dreck and if you think otherwise you need to get your brain checked out,” Virgil tells him, jabbing one finger toward his friend's chest. “Besides everyone knows that the Winter Soldier storyline is the pinnacle of the series. Claiming otherwise is practically sacrilege.”  
  
Richie opens his mouth to reply and this debate might well have gone on for hours like some of their other discussions if the mall hadn't suddenly gone silent. But it does, one moment completely normal and in the next, as quiet as the grave. So the three of them stare at the other customers in confusion, wondering what's going on.  
  
And then Virgil hears the screams.  
  
He's out of his chair in an instant and ready to run toward the sound when Hotstreak reaches out to grab his arm. _Shit, I forgot about him,_ the teen thinks, looking back at the pyro. _And he's obviously not going to just let me run off into danger. Which would actually be kind of sweet if it wasn't so damn inconvenient right now._  
  
Virgil turns to Richie but his friend just shrugs helplessly, for once unable to produce a solution to the other's problems from thin air. _Of course I wouldn't be having this issue if I just told Hotstreak the truth,_ a small voice whispers in his mind. But the teen quickly shoves that crazy thought aside and before he can find another answer, six men in ski masks walk into view.  
  
They're decked out for battle with multiple guns and body armor and the metahuman sinks back into his chair with a shiver. There's no way he or Richie can make a run for it now without someone getting shot, and he can't risk that with all these hostages around.  
  
Actually, with this many witnesses, it's going to take a miracle for the superheroes to stop these guys without revealing their secret identities to everyone and the metahuman hates not knowing what to do. But while he may be able to halt bullets with his powers, Virgil's never actually tried it, and guns still make him twitchy after how his mother died. So he obeys quietly when the men order everyone into one of the stores and drags Hotstreak along with him, hoping that no one will do anything stupid until he gets his chance.  
  
“What we have here is a hostage situation,” one of the gunmen says once everyone is gathered, staring down at them with a feral grin. “However, if you do exactly as we say and the police cooperate, you may actually survive your visit from the Red Viper Gang.”  
  
 _I know them, they've been committing a string of jewelry store robberies across the country. They always leave a snake painted in blood on the wall, but this doesn't make any sense. The Red Vipers have never taken hostages before and they must be really desperate if they're drawing attention to themselves in a city known for having a superhero,_ the teen thinks, liking this situation less and less.  
  
Two of the men hold their guns trained on the group while the others block off the entrances and Virgil takes this chance to look over his fellow hostages. The food court was relatively empty for a Saturday, so other than the trio there are only seven people: two teenage couples, one older man, and a father with his young daughter. They all look terrified and the sight makes the metahuman's heart ache because he knows that they're likely counting on Static to save them.  
  
 _What will I do if the only way to rescue these people is to use my powers without my mask? But I can't let criminals like that know who I am, the word would be out on the streets in a matter of days._ The teen slumps back against Hotstreak, his thoughts in turmoil, and he watches numbly as the criminal's leader pulls out a phone.  
  
He calls the police and starts listing off demands while his companions tie the wrists and ankles of their hostages with rope. They do the three teenagers first and Virgil is sure that they're not from this area when they fail to recognize Hotstreak at all. The pyro is one of the most famous Bang Babies in Dakota so only fools or strangers would treat him so casually. In fact, the moment the men walk away, the teen begins to smell the faint scent of burning and from the corner of his eye, Virgil sees the ropes fall from the redhead's wrists. On his other side, Backpack slices Richie free before moving on to his friend, but even though the three teens are loose, there's nothing they can do as long as those guns are pointed at their heads.  
  
 _Maybe I could magnetize their weapons and stick them to something,_ Virgil wonders, but when he reaches his mind out to touch the metal, nothing happens. _What the hell?!_ the metahuman thinks, unable to feel the guns at all and even the bullets are fainter than they should be.  
  
 _I've heard of plastic weapons before, but I didn't think that you could get assault rifles like that. I guess this explains why they don't seem worried about Static; even if they didn't bother to research any of the other Bang Babies, they're obviously prepared for me. There's no way I can take them out on the down low now._  
  
“You think we aren't serious? I'll show you serious!” The gang's leader shouts suddenly, his face twisting in fury as he yells into the phone. “You just cost yourselves a hostage! Maybe this will make you rethink your stance.”  
  
He signals to his men and two of the Vipers stalk toward their prisoners, a cold look in their eyes. Everyone flinches as they pass by but the men head straight for the young father and reach out to pull his daughter from his arms. The man tries to resist them, protesting violently as he holds the girl tightly to his chest.  
  
“Please, take me instead. Don't hurt my daughter, please. Lily's all I have,” he begs desperately, but the criminals just shove him down to the floor. One of them presses a boot into his throat to keep him there while the other Viper grabs Lily and hoists her into the air, gun against head. She starts crying, huge gasping sobs that shake her entire body, and when she calls out for her father, Virgil can't take it anymore. Even if everyone finds out about Static, he cannot sit here and watch this child die.  
  
“Leave her alone!” Yet before the metahuman can move a muscle, it is Hotstreak who surges to his feet and shouts. In an instant, there are six guns pointed at his head but the pyro barely even seems to notice the weapons in his rage.  
  
“I told you to let her go,” he growls, either brave or foolhardy as his hands curl into fists. _What is he thinking? He's not bulletproof; he could get hurt, or die!_   Virgil thinks, his heart pounding at the threat to the redhead's life. This terror feels strangely familiar, almost like when his father was kidnapped or when Richie was possessed. But this time it's somehow worse, his fear paralyzing him with indecision and all Virgil can do is watch helplessly as the other teen faces off against the gang.  
  
“Don't be stupid kid. You can't do anything against us,” the Red Viper's leader begins to laugh, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at Hotstreak's chest. “The only danger in this city is that Static fellow of yours and we're well prepared for him. So just sit back down or I'll kill you both.”  
  
“Man and I thought I was the one who needed to study more,” the pyro replies with a smirk. “Static's far from the only freak in Dakota and you just pissed me off.”  
  
With the last word, an aura of flames flares up around him and fireballs shoot towards five of the criminals as they stare in shock. Four of them drop screaming when their clothes ignite, only the leader managing to dodge, and then Hotstreak tackles the man holding Lily. He quickly proves that he's still the most vicious fighter out there, kidney-punching the criminal before grabbing him in a choke hold and shoving the girl back toward her dad.  
  
“Look out!” Virgil finds his voice in time to yell a warning when the Viper's leader recovers enough to take his shot. He can hardly miss at this distance, but the pyro spins toward him and the first bullet lands in the other Viper's chest.  
  
“Shit!” The man shouts, firing again. Though the shots knock him backward, Hotstreak ducks behind the dying criminal in his arms and escapes unharmed. Richie is busy shoving the hostages to the floor, but Virgil cannot take his eyes from the pyro even as the sound of the gunfire echoes in his ears. This is what the teen had wanted, for Hotstreak to be willing to fight for someone other than himself, and now he's risking his life to save them all.  
  
Yet even as Virgil's heart swells in admiration, panic is clawing up his throat because the other metahuman has nowhere left to run. The last Viper dodges everything that the teen throws as he backs the redhead toward the wall and before Virgil can even try to help the pyro, there is one last shot.  
  
“Hotstreak!” He yells, everything in him crying out in denial as the pair disappears in a wall of white-hot flame. The teen is on his feet in an instant running toward the blaze, feeling as though his heart is about to shatter in his chest. “Hotstreak!” Virgil calls again, trying to see through the smoke and all he can think is, _please, please, please don't be dead._  
  
“What it is? I've got a freaking headache," a voice mutters as the flame finally clears to reveal the pyro leaning against the wall. The last Viper is unconscious before him, his skin blistered and clothes smoking, while his weapons lay shattered on the floor. “I guess all that experimenting with temperature payed off,” Hotstreak continues, holding out his hand.  
  
On his palm is a melted pool of metal that had once been a bullet and Virgil's knees nearly give out when he realizes how close it was. But they survived.  
  
The teen wants to punch the pyro for scaring him like that, and then he wants to kiss him with everything he has. This urge is hardly new, Virgil has been ignoring it for weeks, and yet for all his practice at denial, he can no longer ignore what he feels. Because this desire is not just physical for all that he wants to hug the redhead, to talk and laugh and kiss him; no, deep in his heart, the metahuman wants to share the burdens that he holds. And whatever terror the teen felt at seeing Hotstreak in danger pales next to the fear that he feels now.  
  
 _Oh fuck. I'm in love._


	6. A Coward at Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil freaks out.

Virgil manages to keep himself together long enough for the police to arrive and take charge of the surviving Vipers, he and Lily's father ensuring that Hotstreak gets the praise he's due. However, the instant that this duty is completed, the teen makes his excuses to his companions and flees the scene as quickly as he can.  
  
His mind is in such turmoil that the journey barely registers and he's holding onto his composure by a thread by the time he shoves open his front door. Thankfully no one else is home because this is when Virgil finally loses it, the teen collapsing to his knees on the floor.  
  
 _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. What am I even doing? What the hell is wrong with me? I like girls; I've always liked girls and now I'm turning gay for Hotstreak?! What the fuck?_ Virgil moans to himself, clutching his head in his hands. While his father hadn't raised him to be prejudiced, there was a difference between believing that everyone had the right to love how they wanted and having his worldview turned completely upside-down.  
  
The teen has always thought of himself as straight, one of those facts of life he never questioned, and he is not prepared for this. _It's gotta be a mistake; just the adrenaline rush of almost dying messing with my mind. I mean I've admired other guys before, but who hasn't checked out the competition and a lack of attraction isn't why Daisy and I broke up. So I definitely like girls._  
  
Eventually Virgil pulls himself together long enough to make it to his room, flopping down on his bed with a frustrated sigh. _Okay, I mean I didn't want him to die. Screaming his name was a totally reasonable reaction since we're more or less friends now; it's not like I would have wanted Richie to get hurt either and I've never had any desire to kiss him. I've never had the urge to kiss any other guys so this really has to be some weird kind of fluke._  
  
With this comforting veneer of denial pasted shoddily over the truth, the teen feels a little more comfortable for his self-image is back where it belongs. Indeed he's so convinced of his heterosexuality that he decides to prove it to himself, imagining another man naked to see if he reacts.  
  
At first he picks a random guy from one of his classes, running his mind over the other's scrawny shoulders and feeling rather smug when his cock doesn't so much as twitch. But then the pale skin in his thoughts gains a warmer tone, dark hair turning red, and Virgil feels himself flush with heat. For kissing Hotstreak is far too easy to imagine, his lips soft but demanding and the pyro's skin would burn against him as the other boy took control.  
  
Almost against his will, the teen slips his hand into his pants, stroking himself in time with his fantasy. It takes an embarrassingly short time for him to come and he spills over his fingers at the thought of those green eyes fixed on him.  
  
 _Okay, fuck. So apparently that's a thing. I like girls and I like Hotstreak, but just because I think he's ridiculously attractive doesn't mean I'm actually in love. That's simply ridiculous,_ Virgil tells himself shakily, one last desperate attempt to rewrite the facts. Yet the more he tries to fight it, the deeper the knowledge roots within his brain and it must be love when the thought of spending his life without the redhead makes his heart ache like it is breaking.  
  
He wants to date the other metahuman, to kiss him and hug him and fight at his side, and it took them both nearly dying to open up his eyes. Nearly dying and a whole lot of soul searching since, in all honesty, the teen still doesn't want to believe that this is true.  
  
But it is. Virgil is well and truly head over heels for a former delinquent Bang Baby and accepting this fact only makes him freak out more. Because the only thing he can think about is all the reasons why this cannot happen, all the reasons why any attempt at a relationship is doomed, and his terror is a hard knot in his chest.  
  
For while young love is supposed to be a bright and hopeful thing, the teen has seen too much darkness to believe in that. There are too many fears that he has never truly faced, instead burying his guilt and helplessness beneath a smile and a mask. Static is never insecure about himself; Static is never lonely or afraid. No matter what Virgil is feeling, Static gives him distance for the superhero exists apart from the normal world and that truth does not change. The metahuman does not want it to change.  
  
Because he failed to save the one who mattered most; his mother's death nearly destroyed him and he cannot go through that again. He cannot fall in love just to have his heart broken and with Hotstreak, that's all he's going to get.  
  
Even if the pyro returns his feelings, and the teen rather doubts that, the two of them would never be able to work it out. For Virgil would either have to keep his identity a secret until the lies ruined him or he would have to do the unthinkable and tell Hotstreak the truth. Sure he had imagined doing just that before, unmasking everything and hoping that it went right, but that was only an idle fancy. That was no more than a passing daydream because while Virgil might have managed it as friends, as lovers it's impossible.  
  
The teen cannot give Hotstreak that kind of leverage with which to break him should the other metahuman be disgusted by his attraction and if he reciprocates, the pyro has never been the kind to hide. He's never been the type to back down from a fight and yet Virgil doesn't even want to imagine how badly a gay Static would go down.  
  
He can see the headlines now: ' _Superhero or super queer; Dakota's finest slums it up_ ,' and the thought makes him cringe. Static has to be a symbol not a mockery but if the teen is actually to date Hotstreak, he can't do it with only half his life. So maybe the risk would be worth it if they were truly happy together, but what if they broke up later on? Virgil would have ruined everything, gambled everything on hopes that did not pan out and he would rather have some heartbreak now than dream and lose it all.  
  
So it's a bloody mess and that's not even considering everything else that might go wrong. The metahuman already has nightmares about Richie and his father being tortured to get at Static and adding Hotstreak to that equation would only make them worse.  
  
Virgil is supposed to protect the ones he cares about not get them killed, and while the pyro can defend himself pretty well, the thought of someone hurting the redhead because of him makes the teen want to hyperventilate. So while he knows it's cowardly and part of his heart hates himself for the decision, the metahuman cares too much to risk the other's life. This is the same reasoning that's kept him from telling Sharon the truth, protecting those he loves through ignorance, and while there may be a better way, Virgil doesn't know how find it.  
  
Because he's afraid, too afraid to risk his heart and too much of a coward to risk the image he has built. The teen needs Static to remain a shining paragon so that he can feel worthwhile even as he hates himself for the dependency.  
  
So he decides to stop thinking about it, burying his self-loathing beneath the knowledge that it won't matter anyway. _Enough of this,_ Virgil tells himself firmly, shoving his face into a pillow and screaming his emotions into the cloth. _Hotstreak probably doesn't return your feelings and it would ruin your life. End of story, so suck it up and deal._  
  
\---  
  
With this new determination to ensure that nothing changes, the teen finally manages to fall asleep, hoping that the world will make more sense in the morning. But Virgil soon discovers that keeping things the same is much harder than he thought.  
  
Because now that he knows what the warmth in his chest means whenever Hotstreak smiles, he finds it almost impossible to ignore. The teen starts second-guessing every action, wondering if he's sitting too close to be considered friendly, and twitching under the pyro's hands. He's never noticed how often the other metahuman likes to touch him, always patting him on the shoulder or poking at his cheeks.  
  
This touching drives him crazy because it makes him hopeful; it makes Virgil wonder if his feelings are shared and these thoughts are too dangerous to allow. They are dangerous but unstoppable for no matter how he tries, the teen cannot seem to shove them down.  
  
So the only thing to do is put some distance between them and pray that this will make his love start to fade. Thankfully, with Hotstreak now working part-time for his father, Virgil has a good excuse for seeing him less often and since the redhead is passing all of his classes, he pulls the tutoring back as well.  
  
Yet this separation only makes the teen feel worse because now he's lonely **and** heartbroken. Over the days that follow, he becomes sluggish and distracted, his secrets weighing heavy on his mind and everyone who knows him wonders at the change. But Virgil brushes off his father's questions and Richie's worried looks because he can't tell anyone that he's preoccupied by dreams of burning kisses that make him wake with sticky sheets.  
  
While his dad wouldn't hate him for liking men, the teen can't help but think that he'd be disappointed by his choices and somehow that thought is worse. That right there is almost enough to make the metahuman want to rip these emotions from his chest even without the other problems and he just wishes it would stop.  
  
Virgil just wants things to go back to the way they were before since he misses being friends with the redhead and Hotstreak's obvious confusion at the change in their interactions threatens to drown him in guilt. It's not as though the pyro has a lot of other allies in this world and it's not fair for the teen's stupid feelings to ruin the progress that they've gained. But he simply cannot do it when every moment in the redhead's presence threatens to destroy the walls around his secrets and when Hotstreak comes over for Thanksgiving, Virgil has to excuse himself before the meal is through.  
  
The teen had invited the pyro weeks before, after he found out that the other had nowhere else to be, and he could hardly retract the offer since he was pretending that everything was fine. However, seeing the redhead sitting at his table as though he were truly part of their family turns out to be more than he can bear.  
  
Because that's what he wants so desperately and that's what Virgil cannot have so this parody of his dreams is like a knife into his chest. Finally the teen claims that he isn't feeling well and hides up in his room, refusing to leave it for anything.  
  
He can hear his father making excuses for him, probably thinking that it's hero business, and the metahuman dearly wishes that were true. Virgil needs to get this thing under control or it's going to screw up everything and yet he simply doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know and he hates himself for it, hates himself for staying silent when the redhead comes to say goodbye.  
  
 _Why can't I just stop these crazy feelings?_   Virgil thinks, hugging his knees tight. _I just want to be able to talk to him like friends and nothing more and stop worrying about giving the game away._ And as always when the teen is overwhelmed by his problems, he begins to crave escape.  
  
So even though the metahuman knows he shouldn't, he pulls out his mask and Static chases Hotstreak down. The superhero finds his target walking down one of the side-streets, hands in his pockets and a dark cloud on his face. But while Virgil would have been struck by the need to make the other feel better, as Static the urge is not so strong.  
  
Because Static is a different person, a persona he's created, and with that mask in place, his voice is steady when the superhero asks, “So what are you doing out so late? Shouldn't you have some place to be?”  
  
“Not now, Sparky. I'm not really in the mood," the pyro replies, looking up at him in annoyance. “Don't you have better things to do than check on me?”  
  
This reaction is a stark reminder that while Hotstreak and Virgil may be friends, the other metahuman doesn't think the same of Static, and the teen feels a moment of regret. He has been ignoring the redhead when on patrols even as he and Virgil got closer and now he wishes that he had tried a bit harder like this. But while it would be nice if the pyro liked both of his identities, this difference is what he needs right now, so he shoves that regret aside.  
  
“Not really. Dakota is usually pretty quiet over the holidays since everyone is too busy dealing with their families to go commit a crime,” the superhero tells the other teen with his trademark cocky grin before his voice softens almost against his will. “Besides I wasn't checking on you really. I was just on patrol and thought that I'd say hi.”  
  
“Sure,” Hotstreak says, eyebrows rising skeptically. “And what made you think that was a good idea? We don't exactly have a lot of conversations.”  
  
Even though this is what he wanted, it hurts to see the redhead so hostile and it takes effort to keep Static in place. But if he can get past this, persevere until the two of them are better acquainted, maybe that will help. Maybe then the teens can have a proper friendship without love getting involved and with this example, Virgil can hopefully learn to control his thoughts again.  
  
“I heard about what you did at the mall. That was good work,” Static tells him as a first step in this direction, flying down to perch on a nearby fence.  
  
However, while his praise is sincere, Hotstreak doesn't seem to see it that way because he bristles and snaps out, “Right and I'm sure you think you could have done so much better if you were there. But you weren't and I didn't do it for you anyway.”  
  
 _If only you knew..._ “No I'm serious. That was impressive work and the police said those Vipers were actually prepared for me with plastic guns and everything,” the superhero explains earnestly, trying to get the other to believe him. “So I mean... I was wondering if you might want to work together sometime.”  
  
“Are you serious?” Voice rising incredulously, Hotstreak stares at Static as though he's gone insane. “I'm not exactly some kind of masked do-gooder you know, even if I refused to sit back and watch those assholes kill a kid.”  
  
“Well yeah, it would be a little hard to create a secret identity for you when half the city knows your name,” Static snorts, before sobering again. “But my offer was serious. We know we can work together because of that time with Alva and I could actually use the help, particularly if criminals are starting to learn what I can do. So since you seem to be serious about turning over a new leaf, you're the best one for the job.” _Please say yes. Please._  
  
The pyro is silent for a long moment, obviously thinking it over and with every second that he doesn't refuse outright, the other teen hopes a little more. Though, “And what's in it for me?” is hardly a resounding yes.  
  
However, it is very Hotstreak and Static has to fight the urge to smile fondly as he responds. “Well, for starters the police would stop looking at you sideways every time that you walk by. Other than that, it should make it a whole lot easier to get hired once you graduate and I may be able to get you off parole. Besides, we'd have to train together so you'd have a perfectly valid excuse to kick my ass.”  
  
“Fine, then. If you can actually get me off parole then I'm in, but I'm not wearing spandex or any stupid mask,” the pyro agrees grudgingly, holding out a hand for Static to shake.  
  
“Hey I'm not one for spandex either so you don't have to worry about that. You can show up in your jeans for all I care,” he replies, hopping off the fence to seal the deal. For the first time in several weeks, touching Hotstreak doesn't make his heart beat into overdrive and the superhero has never been so very happy that his costume includes gloves.  
  
 _I can totally do this,_ Static thinks optimistically as the two of them set up a time to meet, refusing to think about how this plan might go wrong. Thus it's a far more cheerful metahuman who flies off again, returning home to finish Thanksgiving with his family.  
  
\---  
  
Yet for all his wild optimism, Virgil manages to juggle the two sides of his life for less than a month before it all comes crashing down.  
  
Everything goes perfectly at first; Hotstreak shows up to meet with Static as promised and the two of them work together even better than he hoped. For as it turns out, years of fighting on opposite sides have taught the Bang Babies to read each other's moves and the two metahumans' powers are nicely complementary. In truth, other than their shared weakness towards water, they should be nearly unstoppable and over the years, Gear has come up with a number of tricks to protect his friend's Achilles heel.  
  
So after only a few days of training, the superhero feels comfortable enough to take the other out on patrol and once they capture their first gang of bank robbers, Static is pretty sure that Hotstreak's hooked. Because the redhead can't stop bouncing, grinning proudly at the cops when the pair turns their prizes over and it's actually rather adorable.  
  
This is the beginning of a beautiful partnership, or so he hopes, and over the days that follow the pyro does start to warm up to Static slightly. They even manage to have actual conversations instead of sniping at each other, though some of this is due to the superhero's inability to completely separate Virgil's emotions from Static's once he puts on the mask. He tries his best and the persona of Static does keep the stronger feelings locked away, but he's so used to treating Hotstreak as a friend that some things still seep through.  
  
Which is why one evening after they've finished their patrol and are hanging out upon the rooftops, the superhero finds himself asking a question that's been on Virgil's mind. “So are you just completely fireproof or what?”  
  
“Huh? Well I think so. I mean I've never actually tested it for sure because I'm not that fucking crazy,” Hotstreak replies, flicking little balls of flame from his fingers. “But I seem to be immune to my own fire at least. Which is good because otherwise I would have been screwed from the start. Why do you ask?”  
  
“Partially just curiosity if I'm being honest,” Static tells him with a grin. “But I was also thinking that your powers would make you an awesome fireman and being a superhero isn't exactly a paying job.”  
  
“You know I've never really considered that,” the pyro says, looking rather surprised that the superhero has put any thought into this. “I guess that would make sense since I can control other fires a bit as well. But don't you actually have to be a fine upstanding citizen for a job like that?”  
  
“It's not like you're running for office or something and if you're really fireproof I doubt the chief would care. Besides, if we keep working together, people should start to see you in a different light and you'd still have to graduate and pass the training anyway. So you've got plenty of time before you'd have to make a decision either way. Just think about the option, will you?”  
  
“I guess I can do that,” Hotstreak agrees, before turning to pierce Static with a contemplative stare. “Hey, you're about my age, right? Do you know Virgil Hawkins? In your real life or whatever.”  
  
Static nearly flips out at this question, a frisson of panic shooting through him at the thought that the other teen might know. But the pyro doesn't seem to be angry and he should be furious so the superhero gets himself under control enough to say, “Um, I know of him. Why do you ask?”  
  
“I dunno. You just sounded a bit like him right there, what with the future planning and optimism and all,” the redhead tells him, running a hand through his hair as he continues awkwardly. “At first he was the only person who actually seemed to believe me when I said I wanted to change and so he was helping me out, but now he's gone kinda weird. Not wanting to tutor me as much makes sense since studying is a pain in the ass and I'm doing better now, but it's like Virgil doesn't want to hang out at all. Fuck, I don't know why I'm even telling you this; it's not like you know what's going on in his head.”  
  
 _God I wish that were the case,_ Static thinks, feeling incredibly guilty about even having this conversation. It feels like a betrayal, though of himself or Hotstreak he's not sure, and the lies burn as they come out of his mouth.  
  
“I haven't talked to him in quite awhile so I don't know what's on the guy's mind right now, but I doubt that it has anything to do with you. He's probably just busy with college applications or girl troubles or something and you shouldn't take it to heart. I mean, you should have heard him after I learned that he'd been put in charge of you and tracked him down to get the scoop; I've never seen anyone defend your good name like that.”  
  
“Really?” The superhero feels slightly better about his actions when the redhead's expression brightens, looking as though it's a huge weight off his mind. “That does sound like Virgil, too damn nice for his own good. I guess I better go talk to him and clear the air. Thanks for the advice.”  
  
Hotstreak hops off the roof with a little smile that momentarily stuns Static with its brilliance, until he shoots up in a panic as he realizes where the other teen has gone. But by flying home at his top speed he manages to make it back first, changing just in time to answer the pyro's knock. Though the sight of the redhead still threatens to overwhelm him, now that Virgil knows how abandoned Hotstreak was feeling, he forces himself to smile cheerfully.  
  
“Hey, what's up?” He asks, digging his nails into his palm to keep himself under control. While the metahuman manages all right as Static, without that separation here to aid him, it's a struggle not to stare at Hotstreak's lips.  
  
But his smile must be normal enough because the pyro doesn't seem to notice any difference, or he's just caught up in his own embarrassment. “Nothing much. I just haven't really seen you around in a while except at school and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. Or something.”  
  
Hotstreak looks so uncomfortable with asking that Virgil doesn't have the heart to turn him away even though he probably should. So instead the metahuman squares his shoulders and tells himself to deal, opening the door wider with an only slightly rictus grin. “Sure, of course we can. I know I've been busy lately and since you seemed to be swamped yourself, I didn't want to bother you.”  
  
They end up watching a movie and although the teen is careful to keep several feet between them, he still gets hot and bothered while watching the redhead lick popcorn butter from his skin. But Virgil survives the experience somehow and it's worth the effort required to keep his hands from wandering to see the pyro look so much happier when he leaves.  
  
Which is why the teen suddenly finds himself spending twice as much time with Hotstreak when that wasn't in his plans. But they still patrol together when he's Static and now that the other metahuman has started seeking Virgil out, his resolve crumbles fast.  
  
No matter how difficult it becomes to keep his stories straight and how often he has to excuse himself to jack off quickly in the bathroom, he simply cannot say no when faced with the pyro's hopeful grin. Worst of all, the teen starts wondering if it would be so bad to make his feelings known after all and that is a disaster waiting to occur.  
  
For while Virgil's more or less gotten over the 'am I gay' freakout by now and is even considering telling his father in case he falls for another guy someday, all of the other reasons for his silence still remain. They bind his tongue and weigh down his spirit and his heart only gets heavier as Christmas Eve draws near. Because December 24th was his mother's birthday and living through that day without her always reminds him of everything he's lost.  
  
It's even worse this year due to the turmoil that the teen is carrying and he can't help but think that his mother would know what to do. She had always loved him unconditionally so Virgil could have told her about his worries and maybe his heart wouldn't be as troubled if he had someone who understood.  
  
This melancholy drives him to seek solitude and since his family is used to his depression this time of year, no one questions it when the metahuman ends up on the roof of his house night after night.  
  
No one but Hotstreak, who finds him there one evening, chin resting on his knees. For once the sight of the redhead doesn't make Virgil blush because he's too dejected to be embarrassed about the way he wants to curl up in the pyro's arms.  
  
“What are you doing up here?” The redhead asks, flopping down on the shingles by the other teen. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“It's not important,” Virgil sighs, turning his head away. “I just have trouble with this time of year.”  
  
But the pyro won't let him get away with that deflection, bumping their shoulders together gently. “Hey, don't say that. If it's bothering you then it matters and maybe talking will help.”  
  
“Somehow I doubt that. But I suppose it can't make me feel any worse,” the teen says, looking down at his hands so he doesn't have to see the other's face. “You know my mother died in the riots, right? Some asshole shot her and killed her almost instantly even though she was only trying to help. So around her birthday I always get depressed and this year's worse than most. I just wish I could have saved her somehow.”  
  
Hotstreak doesn't say anything in response and eventually Virgil can't stay quiet anymore, asking bitterly, “What? You're not going to tell me that it's not my fault cause I was just a kid and I shouldn't feel guilty anymore? Everyone else does.”  
  
“Of course not. Even if it's true that's not going to make you feel any better, is it?” The redhead asks and the other teen turns to stare at him in surprise. Unlike most people who find out about his mother, the pyro isn't looking at him with pity or useless sympathy. Instead there is something like understanding in his eyes and Virgil feels his heart swell uncontrollably. “I used to have a younger sister, you know; she was a total sweetheart and I tried to keep her safe. But those bastards in family services separated the two of us after mom junkied herself to death and when I finally tracked her down, it was too late. So I really do know what you mean.”  
  
If Virgil wasn't already in love with Hotstreak, this would have made him fall and he buries his face in the other's shoulder to hide his tears. Yet the redhead simply holds him gently while he cries, waiting patiently for the teen to finish pouring out his grief. When his sobs finally wind down, Virgil raises his head again, wiping roughly at his eyes while he whispers an apology.  
  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” the pyro replies and at the other metahuman's look of total incomprehension, he shakes his head. “You really have no idea, do you?” Hotstreak asks fondly and Virgil stares frozen when the redhead leans forward to press their lips together.  
  
His mouth is soft and comforting, even warmer than the teen had imagined and for a moment he cannot resist sinking into the other boy's embrace. He wants to stay like this forever, to let the pyro share his burdens and destroy his loneliness.  
  
But as the kiss deepens and electricity begins to build beneath his skin, Virgil remembers why this cannot be. As long as he cannot tell Hotstreak about Static, dating the pyro wouldn't be fair to either of them because his father was right and you shouldn't lie to those you love. Yet this is all that the metahuman does, he lies and lies and lies and so he does not deserve this. Let the redhead find someone better, someone who can actually trust in the ones they care about instead of a useless coward like him.  
  
So the teen forces himself to pull back, heart clenching at the protest in Hotstreak's eyes. “I'm sorry, I **can't** ,” He whispers and then he runs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the happiest chapter around, I know, since Virgil's kinda being a bipolar idiot. But things will get better, eventually.


	7. Sometimes Love Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, it took me awhile to find Hotstreak's voice again and then when I did, he refused to do what I had planned. So if this chapter seems a little odd to you, that's why because somehow he ended up as the most well-adjusted of the two.
> 
> Oh and I didn't have time to edit this as much as I would've like, so if you catch any mistakes please let me know.

_Fuck this shit!_   Hotstreak snarls to himself, smacking his hand against the brick wall in frustration. _I mean the guy's cute and all and fun to mess with but it was never supposed to be any more than that. I was never supposed to fucking care!_  
  
He was never supposed to matter like this and now it's all gone wrong. Because somehow Hawkins had turned to Virgil in the firestarter's mind; they had become actual friends instead of business partners and while he refused to admit the possibility of a crush, things had spiraled out of control from there. Because the redhead found himself looking forward to their conversations and even the tutoring was kinda fun once he stopped being so damn far behind.  
  
 _But then everything got weird and I still don't know why._  
  
At first Hotstreak had been too proud of taking down the Vipers to really notice that Virgil was avoiding him, especially once Mr. Hawkins had started taking up all of his free time.  
  
Though busy or not, the redhead **had** noticed when the other teen suddenly started flinching away from him at school instead of blushing like before and the pyro hadn't enjoyed the change at all. It brought back memories of his days as F-Stop and the firestarter didn't want to be that guy anymore. That guy had been scared and stupid and well on his way to becoming every one of those criminal things that some idiots still expected now.  
  
So Hotstreak figured that maybe beating up those criminals had given Virgil some kind of bullying flashback and tried to give him space until he stopped freaking out. Even if it hurt for the one person who had actually seemed to believe in him to suddenly change his mind.  
  
Except that things didn't get any better no matter how many days passed by and the whole fiasco at Thanksgiving really took the cake. Because the pyro wouldn't have come if Virgil hadn't practically demanded it in his invitation and then the guy had the gall to flee the room at his first opportunity. This pissed Hotstreak off something fierce, his anger only slightly masking the ache of rejection, and it didn't help any that Mr. Hawkins' excuses were flimsy at best.  
  
When Virgil never returned, the redhead decided to leave as well since there was no point in sitting around making awkward conversation with people who still didn't like him much. Though the pyro did toss a box of leftovers into his backpack on the way out because bad company or not, the sister was a damn good cook.  
  
So the redhead had been walking down an alleyway near the Hawkins' house and wondering why he couldn't seem to stop caring about what the damn guy did, when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. For one brief moment Hotstreak thought that Virgil had come after him and when he turned to see Sparky instead, his mood had soured even more.  
  
The following conversation had been strange on so many levels because the last thing the firestarter had expected was Static suddenly wanting to be BFFs. Oh, the other metahuman hid it well and at first Hotstreak thought he was being mocked, but the signs were there once he got a clue.  
  
However, even if Sparky was having some kind of teenage crisis, the pyro wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to blow shit up semi-legally. This was everything he had been aiming for after all. So he accepted, his words grudging to hide the glee he felt inside, and if Hotstreak also hoped that this would take his mind off Virgil that was no one's business but his own.  
  
The plan had even worked at first because the training was actually rather entertaining and he got a serious kick from bringing the bad guys down. So even if he was just some kind of replacement for the absent Gear, the pyro didn't really mind as long as he could kick some ass. But the longer Hotstreak spent with the superhero, the more Sparky reminded him of Virgil and the similarities made the lonely pit within his chest grow stronger. It wasn't just the age and that stupid hairstyle because the pyro obviously knew that there was more than one black teenager in Dakota and anyone could buy some gel. _Though there can't be too many with that fantastic ass._  
  
No, it was the personality which gave him the strongest sense of déjà vu for while Sparky was a great deal cockier than the other teen, they both had the same strange willingness to give Hotstreak second chances and the same sarcastic wit.  
  
Honestly, if the Meta-Breed hadn't proved that Static and Virgil were actually different people years before, the redhead might have started wondering again. Because when the teen wasn't paying attention, the other metahuman felt like Virgil in a way he couldn't quite explain and it was always disappointing to realize whom he was really talking to.  
  
Maybe that was why Hotstreak finally just said fuck it and asked the superhero for advice, tired of using him as a second-rate replacement for his friend. Or maybe it had been the other metahuman actually caring about his future enough to think seriously on Hotstreak's options when he hadn't expected that.  
  
Whatever it was, the pyro was glad of it because he probably never would have gotten up the courage to speak to Virgil otherwise.  
  
After that conversation, things had been better for a while even if the other teen still acted a little odd. More than a little actually since he would lean into Hotstreak's shoulder only to jerk away sharply and it had taken the pyro almost a week of close observation to finally figure out what the problem was. But when he did, the teen nearly killed himself with laughing because Virgil had been having a big gay freakout and didn't secretly hate him after all.  
  
This realization had been a relief for it meant that Hotstreak hadn't done anything this time. **He** wasn't being rejected, the other teen was just flipping about being attracted to a guy and it had nothing to do with whether or not he still believed that the pyro had a chance. It was almost understandable really, even if Hotstreak's personal self-discovery had been more of a “huh, I guess I like dick,” after catching himself checking out Ebon and Static a few too many times. But Virgil did have a lot more to lose than the pyro and he couldn't just flame the crap out of anyone who gave him a hard time.  
  
So as the other teen finally seemed to relax a bit, blushing but not pulling away like he'd been burned, Hotstreak began to wonder about other things. Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, he **liked** Virgil and if his admiration was returned then that opened up all kinds of possibilities.  
  
However, that's actually not what the redhead had been thinking about when he'd climbed up on the Hawkins family's roof tonight. He had just been worried about the other teen since Virgil had been acting even more depressed than usual for the last couple of days and his family didn't seem to be doing anything. But when Hotstreak saw his friend looking so miserable, he would have done anything to put the light back in his eyes. So the redhead had tried to comfort him, telling Virgil about his sister and holding the teen while he cried.  
  
But then he'd looked up and **apologized** and the pyro hadn't been able to stop himself from kissing him right there. Which might not have been the best plan considering the way that Virgil ran.  
  
 _But he kissed me back, I know he did, so what the fucking hell?_   Hotstreak wonders irately, punching the wall again. _Why the hell did he run away from me? I thought he was done freaking out about the guy thing and I'm pretty sure I didn't read that wrong. Maybe it's just me he doesn't like?_  
  
That last possibility feels far too believable because the metahuman knows that he's hardly boyfriend material and it's not as though Virgil's family likes him much. Sure Mr. Hawkins tolerates the pyro well enough as a worker and someone his son is helping to rehabilitate, but that doesn't mean he'd be cool with the whole dating thing. And if Hotstreak was going to try things with the other teen, he'd want to do them right because Virgil seems like that kind of guy. Like the kind of guy you'd buy a ring for if you could.  
  
 _Not that we're anywhere close to that,_ the redhead thinks, shoving away this frankly terrifying thought. Instead he focuses on how he can make the other teen actually talk to him, which is not something that the pyro ever expected himself to say.  
  
But if Virgil is going to reject him, the guy can damn well tell him why.  
  
\---  
  
Which is a great plan except for the part where the other boy is absolutely nowhere to be found. Because while Hotstreak thought that Virgil had been avoiding him religiously before, the firestarter quickly learns that he was wrong.  
  
First the other teen doesn't show up for the school the next morning and while one day to sort himself out may have been understandable, he also misses the next day and the next. So Hotstreak corners Foley during lunch on Friday and demands to know where the hell his friend has been. Because winter break starts this weekend and without the advantage of sharing classes, the pyro isn't sure how he'll pin Virgil down.  
  
“V's locked himself up in his room and refuses to come out,” the blond explains with a helpless shrug, proving himself completely useless once again. “He claims he's sick but usually he'll come to school anyway if it's not too bad. Besides, he's been acting weird for a while now and he refuses to tell me why.”  
  
Which doesn't tell Hotstreak anything that he didn't already know. So the pyro offers to save Foley the trip and bring Virgil his homework, hoping that the excuse will get him into the house long enough to discover what the fuck is going on.  
  
But Sharon is the one who answers the door and she pins him with a ferocious glare before he can even speak, practically snatching the papers from his hands. Hotstreak isn't sure why she's so pissed off because while big sis has never liked him, she's never been this hostile before. Though the redhead's pretty sure that it has something to do with Virgil since Sharon's expression darkens even further when he asks to see her brother and she snarls out a refusal before slamming the door in his face.  
  
“I told him he'd just get hurt in the end,” Hotstreak hears her mutter while he's standing there gobsmacked and the sheer injustice of that accusation makes his blood start to burn. The pyro wants to pound on the door until she has to open it, scream that he's not the one at fault here and the only one hurting her brother is himself. But there really wouldn't be much point to that.  
  
So he stalks off instead, using Sparky's device to ask if the other metahuman is free to patrol since there's nothing like chasing down criminals to work some frustration off. Except the superhero seems to have abandoned Hotstreak as well because the reply says that Sparky is busy with Gear right now.  
  
Which is how the pyro ends up back at his house just in time to get into a shouting match with that jackass Hamilton who still thinks that he has the right to boss his ward around. But court-appointed guardian or not, Hotstreak isn't in the mood to take shit from anyone and he's a hair's breadth from losing his temper entirely when the older man demands that he call him “Sir.” The only thing that stops him from planting his fist in Mr. Hamilton's smug grin is the thought of Virgil's crestfallen face watching him get carted back to jail and somehow that's the worst part of it all.  
  
Because if Hotstreak can't bear to disappoint the other teen even when he's acting like a total dickwad then the pyro is fucking screwed. Really fucking screwed and he slams into his room to bury his head in his hands.  
  
Over the next few days, the metahuman tries to keep himself occupied instead of pining about the fact that Virgil won't answer his calls, but it's difficult when he suddenly has so much free time. School's out for Christmas break, Mr. Hawkins can only pay him part-time and it feels too weird to hang with Foley without Virgil around, so as long as the other teen stays AWOL, there's a gap that Hotstreak just can't fill. Even Static has been strangely busy with what he claims is League business, cutting their patrols to a few times a week and distracted even then.  
  
But the teen is hardly going to keep trying when Virgil obviously doesn't want to speak to him and the day he looks up to realize that he's completed **all** of his winter homework, Hotstreak decides that enough is enough.  
  
He's going to go out and get a fucking hobby or something instead of sitting here like some kind of loser who can't function by himself. Sure the ache in his chest hasn't gone away but nothing is going to happen on that front until Virgil pulls his head out of his ass so the pyro might as well get a life while he waits. And maybe Hotstreak will meet someone else along the way, someone who turns the other teen and his idiocy into no more than memory.  
  
\---  
  
Of course, the metahuman doesn't exactly know where one goes to find a hobby but he figures the mall is probably a good start. It's bound to have some specialist shops for people with too much time on their hands and maybe one of them will catch his eye. It wouldn't take much because at this point he's almost ready to take up knitting just to reduce the tedium.  
  
But on his way there, Hotstreak hears a siren and he finds himself following the sound down the street. There's a building at the end of the road, an apartment complex in the shitty part of town and it's burning like a bonfire against the clear blue sky.  
  
The teen stands back at first, hesitant about getting involved since the fire trucks are there already and he doesn't know how the firemen would react to seeing him. After all, the pyro hasn't always been very careful and he's probably created a lot of work for these guys over the years. So Hotstreak quickly ducks out of the way before one of the men notices him and decides that he must have started this fire as well.  
  
Yet the redhead can't bring himself to leave, not when he can feel the flames beneath his skin like some kind of siren song. He's never been this close to such a large fire before and something in him **wants** it like a drug. Like the pyro could control it if he just knew the trick.  
  
So Hotstreak waits and watches and tries to get a feel for this blaze within his mind as the firemen rush in to do their job. But no matter what he tries, the firestarter can't seem to get a handle on it, the flames always dancing from his grasp. _Stop fucking teasing me,_ he growls in frustration, telling himself that it's more about the challenge than proving he can help and the metahuman does hate it when there's something he can't do.  
  
Though by this time the firemen seem to have found all of the survivors and are leading the last few out of the building so at least his failure isn't going to cost anyone their lives. Yet even as he thinks this, the pyro feels a sudden surge within his mind and Hotstreak **knows** that everything is about to go to hell.  
  
“What are you doing?” Someone shouts when the teen sprints past them, racing toward the people who are far too close to whatever is about to go down.  
  
Although, that's actually a damn good question because there are too many of them to tackle and the metahuman doesn't have time to convince them that he's right. Not when he can feel the pressure building behind his eyes as something in the basement catches light.  
  
“Get down!” Hotstreak shouts, grabbing the last fireman and shoving him away from the entrance just as a wall of flame explodes before his eyes. It's a fucking fireball, debris shooting toward them like missiles from the blast and there's no way that he's controlling that. All the pyro can think to do is throw up a wall of his own, as thick and hot as he can make it, and hope that nothing will get through.  
  
When his vision clears, the teen is sitting on the ground and he's really not quite sure when his knees gave out. His shirt is toast, literally, but no one else seems to have more than minor injuries so it looks like his panicked efforts did the job.  
  
 _If only I didn't feel like someone had run me over, I might call this a good day,_ the pyro muses, trying not to think about what would have happened if he weren't actually fireproof. Although it's probably a bit late to go unnoticed, the metahuman really doesn't feel like answering any questions and maybe he can sneak out while everyone else is still in shock. But the first step nearly topples Hotstreak over, only a quick helping hand keeping him on his feet, and as he looks up into a fireman's concerned gaze, the redhead knows he's out of luck.  
  
“Hey kid, are you all right?” The guy asks, face twisted in confusion. “I don't know what the hell just happened but you should definitely have injuries.”  
  
“Don't be stupid, Hansen. That's Hotstreak there and fire ain't gonna damage him,” another voice cuts in before the teen can say anything and he's honestly slightly insulted that the first guy doesn't seem to recognize his name. This new fireman certainly knows of him even though the pyro could really do without the staring and the iron grip upon his arm.  
  
“Will someone please explain Bang Babies to the new guy while I find out what the devil is going on?” The guy calls out with an slightly exasperated sigh as he drags Hotstreak over to one of their trucks and sits him firmly down. “Sorry about Hansen, he just moved in from out-city and he hasn't learned all of Dakota's unique quirks just yet. But I'm Anton Wojciechowski, the Captain of this shift, and I'd like an explanation. Now, I'm pretty sure you didn't light that since you've never gone for large scale arson before, so could you tell me what you're doing here?”  
  
The teen is momentarily thrown by the lack of accusations and the other man's ridiculously unpronounceable name but when he thinks about it, the cops and firemen probably do talk. So he pulls himself together with an effort and tells the truth to someone in authority for possibly the first time in his life.  
  
“I heard the sirens and Sparky's been on my ass about getting a real job so I thought I'd see if you needed any help? Or maybe I was just curious, I don't know. See I can sort of control normal fires when they're not so freaking large and I felt this one surge. Actually, you should check the basement because I'm pretty sure that whatever made that explosion wasn't supposed to be down there; the flames were too gleeful for that.”  
  
His head is still aching and the pyro knows that his explanation is rather scattered but the captain seems to be following it well enough. At least enough for his eyes to widen when Hotstreak finishes with, “I mean I was pretty sure that I was fireproof and I melted a bullet once so I figured I could stop all that.”  
  
“Wait, you didn't know?” The man asks, obviously thrown by the teen's recklessness. Which is kind of strange considering that he runs into burning buildings for a living and he's just a normal guy.  
  
“Well I never had the chance to test it in an explosion before,” Hotstreak says with a shrug. “Though maybe I can get Sparky's sidekick to make me some better clothing because it would be a pain if I ended up naked every time I have to stop someone from getting burned alive.”  
  
“Uh, yeah. I can see how that would be annoying,” unpronounceable name guy says, his turn to be at a loss. “Well thanks for your help and if you're really not injured, I can let you go. I'm probably supposed to tell you to leave this to the professionals but you saved half a dozen of my men from being injured today so I'm not going to bother. Just be careful since being immune to fire won't help you if a building collapses on your head and if you decide you want to enter the academy, I'll put in a good word for you with the chief.”  
  
“Seriously? Man I guess Sparky was right after all,” the teen says with bemusement, still punch drunk enough that everything is slightly hilarious. But Hotstreak sobers a bit when he realizes that the one he really wants to tell about this is Virgil in order to show him that he has a future after all.  
  
So he promises to keep the captain's offer in mind and then heads back home to change out of his charred clothes. When the pyro gets there, he passes out for a few hours and wakes ready to try again. Because immune to flames or not, even Hotstreak isn't crazy enough to think of firefighting as a hobby and he still has too much time on his hands.  
  
But apparently the universe is conspiring against him for the redhead has barely stepped out his door when he spies Static from the corner of his eye. The League must be running him hard because the superhero looks exhausted and he doesn't hear the firestarter call his name.  
  
So Hotstreak chases after him, trying to get the other metahuman's attention because he wants to talk to someone about what happened today. The teen needs to wrap his head around his options and he has always made better decisions with a sounding board. While Sparky may not be his first choice, he has at least thought about the pyro's future and with Virgil still not speaking to him, the superhero is the best friend he has.  
  
 _And isn't that a sad thought?_ The redhead muses as the other teen begins to descend toward a gas station on the outskirts of town.  
  
The pyro has always figured that Static and Gear must have some kind of secret hideout since the pair has way too many gadgets to store under their beds, but Hotstreak has to admit this isn't what he had imagined at all. _Though I guess we can't all be Batman, can we? And he did say that superheroing isn't a paying job._  
  
For a broke teenager, these digs actually aren't that bad: large, deserted and unassuming, and the redhead does have to admire the pair's ingenuity. He even starts to feel a little guilty about intruding on their solitude, not enough to stop, but the pyro does check to make sure no one else is around.  
  
Really, Sparky should have done a better job of that but he was either too tired or too complacent and the other metahuman should thank him for this wake up call. Hotstreak is hardly the only Bang Baby capable of following someone and better it be a friend than an enemy.  
  
When he ducks through the doors, the pyro doesn't see the superhero at first, though someone has obviously done some renovations. Half the gas station looks like a tech geek's wet dream, all kinds of gadgets strewn across the countertops, and he knows what Gear must do in his free time. The other half looks more like what Hotstreak might expect from a teenage superhero: a couch, a computer, a few police radios, and of course, the snacks. There's also some spare outfits hanging off to the side and some very familiar textbooks tossed upon the desk.  
  
 _I guess even superheroes have to do their homework,_ the pyro thinks with a smirk, before he freezes as he catches movement off to the side. It's Sparky, walking out of an alcove that the redhead hadn't noticed and the other metahuman looks even worse up close.  
  
Truthfully, the teen looks like he hasn't slept in a week and Hotstreak isn't all that surprised when he slumps down on the couch with a tired sigh. Perhaps this exhaustion is why the superhero still hasn't seen the pyro standing there and although he knows that he should say something, Hotstreak is too fascinated to speak. There's something compelling about seeing Sparky with his guard down like this and not for the first time, the redhead wonders what's hidden beneath that mask.  
  
Because the other metahuman seems almost human without his normal cocky smirk, vulnerable and yet somehow more attractive as well. Hotstreak has always thought there was something false about the face that the superhero shows the world and while he can understand the need to appear unflappable, he finds this version way more interesting.  
  
This Static reminds the pyro of those first few fights right after the Bang when the other metahuman hadn't really known what he was doing but had persisted anyway. The pyro has always admired him for that even when he hated him because it took a certain amount of strength to stand against the rest of the Bang Babies and not even get paid. Hotstreak admires it even more now that he's facing the same choice and he really understands the kind of foolhardy courage that it took, particularly since the superhero started without even Gear to watch his back.  
  
However, whatever admiration he's feeling is wiped away in an instant when Sparky reaches up to take off his mask. Because the pyro knows that face even in profile; he's spent weeks staring at those fucking cheekbones and he's seen it in his dreams often enough.  
  
“Virgil?” Hotstreak bites out incredulously, not even realizing that he's spoken until the other whirls to stare at him with wide eyes.  
  
If he were still one of the Meta-Breed, this would have been like Christmas because Ebon would have quickly blackmailed Static into getting off their backs. If he were still the twisted unhappy bastard that was F-Stop, he might have used this information to leverage other things and find out what Virgil tasted like whether the teen wanted it or not.  
  
But he isn't any of those people anymore, so the metahuman just feels like an idiot for not seeing the truth sooner. Of course Gear could have rigged something when the Meta-Breed kidnapped Virgil and Hotstreak should have trusted his instincts when they were screaming about the similarities. He should have fucking known and this betrayal is an angry knot within his chest. _How many times have you and Foley laughed about the deception, Foley because who else can Sparky's geeky sidekick be?_   the redhead wonders, his hands clenching into fists at his side.  
  
How many times have those assholes laughed at **him** and the panic in Virgil's eyes does nothing to ease the hurt.  
  
While superhero is stuttering out some kind of explanation, Hotstreak doesn't want to hear any halfhearted apologies right now. If he's so fucking sorry then he shouldn't have fucking done it and the pyro snarls the other metahuman to silence before punching that lying bastard in the face.  


 


	8. The Truth Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is still way too angsty, but at least there's a light at the end of the tunnel now. And I'm so sorry that this chapter took this long, I'm working two jobs now and free time is pretty much a thing of the past. This honestly probably could have used another round of editing but I figured you'd prefer it sooner over later.
> 
> And there's only one chapter left now, a shorter one I hope.

“Hotstreak! Wait!” Virgil shouts desperately as the redhead storms out of the Gas Station, the teen's voice strangled with panic and surprise. The force of the other metahuman's punch had knocked him to the floor but no matter how much his cheek is hurting, that's not what pains him most.  
  
No, what makes the teen feel like someone has ripped the heart out of his chest is the look of horrified betrayal that had been on Hotstreak's face. Betrayal, hurt and anger written across his skin and those were the last emotions that Virgil had wanted to see there.  
  
 _How did he even find me?_ the metahuman wonders, focusing on the one idea which doesn't hurt as much. Though it is a valid question since he has been avoiding Hotstreak for weeks now and Gear's alarm system should have kept the other out. But when he looks over at the panel, Virgil sees its wires hanging loose and disconnected, meaning that the blond has been tinkering with the damn thing again. The teen had been too tired to notice this when he first entered, a small slip that he curses now as he leaps back on his feet.  
  
Virgil bursts onto the street seconds later, looking around wildly for some sign of his friend. But the redhead has already disappeared and the superhero is about to take to the sky in chase when he realizes that his mask is still on the couch inside.  
  
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” The teen shouts, kicking the plaster in frustration before slumping back against the wall. This is exactly the kind of mess that he's been trying to avoid since the beginning and now Virgil doesn't know what he should do.  
  
His heart wants to trust that Hotstreak will keep his secret despite everything while his mind thinks that's crazy and he should bind the other's tongue. The teen wants to find a corner in which to cry, he wants to scream at the sheer injustice of it all and he wants to force the pyro to listen to all the excuses he can make. But Virgil knows the other metahuman doesn't want to hear anything from him right now, not with the burning anger that had been in Hotstreak's eyes.  
  
And perhaps the worst thing, worse even than the heartache and the throbbing agony in his cheek, is the knowledge that he deserves no more than this.  
  
Foolish hopes aside, Virgil could hardly have expected a more positive reaction to all his lies and secrets and he was lucky that Hotstreak did no worse than punch. Maybe if the two of them had kept things strictly professional then his falsehood could have been forgiven, but as soon as stronger emotions got involved, he should have known that he was doomed. Because his attraction made the teen hold on as Static when he should have cut his losses and surely the pyro wouldn't have reacted as strongly if he didn't care?  
  
So what right does the teen have to demand that Hotstreak talk to him after everything he's done? Sure the redhead had been a criminal and a bully in the past but now Virgil is the one who should be ashamed and he sinks down on the couch with his head in his hands.  
  
The teen truly is ashamed of his cowardice no matter how good his reasons were and he hates himself all the more because he knows that this won't change. Perhaps if he truly was the person that Static pretends to be, Virgil would find the courage to tell Hotstreak everything. He would explain his feelings, his regrets and the fears which kept him silent and trust in love to make it right.  
  
But instead the metahuman calls Richie to say their cover's blown and Gear needs to keep an eye on the pyro until they know which path he takes. Because even if Hotstreak chooses friendship over hatred and does not rat Static out to everyone, none of the most important things have changed. Virgil may not have feared rejection since that kiss on his rooftop, but everyone whom he cares about is still in danger and his fucking image still requires secrecy.  
  
So the teen tries to convince himself that love is a weakness Static can't afford and he should be thankful for this wake up call. He should be glad that chance brought him to his senses before this entanglement took both metahumans down.  
  
Dakota may still have its heroes but it will not have them together and that is simply the way the dice must fall.  
  
\---  
  
If only it were so easy to forget.  
  
Yet the look on Hotstreak's face still haunts Virgil days later and although he hates to admit it, the teen misses the redhead more than he thought possible. For while he had been avoiding the pyro long before that moment, the separation had been easier to stand when the other metahuman was still trying to contact him. The teen knows it's hypocritical but he cannot seem to help it and even Christmas loses much of its shine.  
  
For now, now all there is is guilt.  
  
Guilt and silence where friendship once existed and although the superhero stands by his decision, he doesn't want to leave their relationship like this. Because Hotstreak probably thinks that Virgil lied about everything and that simply isn't true. He still believes the pyro is capable of achieving greatness if he only stays the course and the teen sincerely hopes that his actions haven't damaged his former friend's resolve.  
  
 _Of course, maybe I'm just being egotistic in thinking that I might have influenced him at all,_ Virgil muses a week later as he prepares to patrol. _Maybe Hotstreak cut our ties without ever looking back and he's happier without me around._  
  
That depressing thought is shoved from his mind when Static finally takes to the air, the superhero trying to focus on the here and now rather than past regrets. But keeping the two facets of his life from bleeding together is no longer as easy as it once was, another thing that he blames the pyro for. Virgil used to be a master of compartmentalization before Hotstreak got him all tangled up and while he still had his issues, at least he was content. However, the superhero is finding that he cannot live in the comfort of denial anymore, not when the flaws within his spirit seem glaringly obvious. They eat at him no matter how the teen tries to rationalize his actions and he wants to be a better man than that.  
  
Love may be a weakness, a vulnerability which Static can't afford, but the thought that he's not even worthy of it seems terribly wrong somehow. Indeed this idea burns within him, an obsession that grows stronger as every day goes by and it's almost time to return to school when he cannot take it anymore.  
  
What would his mother think if she saw him now? Would she still believe that her son was a hero or would she denounce him for his cowardice?  
  
Because even though Virgil tries to tell himself that he would have acted the same if he had fallen for a woman, he cannot choke this falsehood down. For while a civilian might have been kept in the dark just like his sister, a female metahuman would have been an entirely different story. Static would have been proud to love a superheroine, proud to tell the whole world about her, and it is this truth that destroys the fragile web of justification in his mind.  
  
 _I'm supposed to be an example, aren't I? But I'm so afraid of being rejected that I'd rather lie to those I care about than risk them hurting me by leaving and where is the nobility in that? Using Static's image as an excuse for not putting my heart out there is an insult to everything I'm supposed to stand for and I don't want to be Batman, tortured and alone and driven by nothing but duty in my life._  
  
And isn't that a revelation. Virgil does not want to be Batman, despite how much he admires the other superhero's range of skills. For while Static has his purpose, he is more archetype than person, and the teen doesn't want the mask to become all that he is. He doesn't want to forget why he started doing this.  
  
Because it isn't really about catching criminals, it's about protecting people and somehow the metahuman had begun to lose sight of this, focusing instead on the public's opinion of his name. But if the superhero's only goal is making the world a better place to live in, why should it matter what Dakota thinks of him? Why does it matter what anyone calls him as long as Virgil can say that he's saving people who would otherwise be lost? And when did his fears start to justify making decisions for those whom he loves most?  
  
After all, his sister is a grown woman, wouldn't it be better to warn her of the danger instead of forcing her to walk around in ignorance? And while his dad and Richie already know about Static, don't they deserve the truth about how his heart has changed?  
  
 _I mean, they might tell me I'm crazy, sure, but if I decided to go for it, how can I doubt that Richie would be there to watch my back?_  
  
Staying silent is tantamount to admitting that he does not really trust them with his life or their own and they have all earned more than that. Even Hotstreak, for the pyro is certainly able to protect himself and has kept Static's secret despite his anger, his loyalty making Virgil feel incredibly guilty about doubting him this long.  
  
So really, when examined through the harsh lens of proper self-reflection, the teen's justifications tumble like the house of cards they are. Trust has already been proven, public opinion should not matter, and thus, all that's left is the truth of Virgil's fear.  
  
A bitter truth since the metahuman can finally see that his cowardice has cost him his integrity and he knows deep in his bones that his mother would be ashamed of him right now.  
  
\---  
  
Of course, recognizing that he needs to change and doing it are two very different things. Because understanding has not diminished the seam of panic in his chest and the teen's heart only pounds more frantically at the thought of coming clean.  
  
Telling the truth means owning up to his falsehoods and Virgil knows from experience that Hotstreak and Sharon both have powerful right hooks. Even his father has always been able to ruin him with one disappointed gaze and he can't face that chance right now. So the metahuman takes the path of least resistance and goes to Richie for advice. This is what he's always done when life seemed insurmountable and his shame gives him courage enough to take this first small risk. Indeed, the blond has often been able to see his problems clearly, whether Virgil's sudden new superpowers or his latest failure with Daisy, and the teen should never have waited this long to ask.  
  
So after they finish their patrol one evening, Static sits down next to Gear and suddenly blurts out, “I'm in love with Hotstreak.”  
  
Though he probably could have timed this statement better since his friend is too busy choking on his soda to respond at first. But as soon as Richie manages to catch his breath, the other metahuman shouts, “Oh my god, you're fucking serious. That explains everything!”  
  
“Um, what?”  
  
“Why you've been acting so weird, dumb ass,” the blond replies, the _duh_ coming across clearly in his voice. “Did you honestly think I haven't noticed your bipolar craziness? I mean, I _have_ known you since elementary school, although I'm not so sure about your taste in men.”  
  
“Um, **what**?!” Virgil repeats incredulously, finally looking up from his lap to meet Richie's cheeky grin. “Why the hell are you so calm about this?”  
  
“ _Hello,_ super-genius here. I ran the statistical probabilities on your preferences ages ago and so I've just been waiting for you to get a clue as well. Though I have to admit I never thought about matching you with Hotstreak before now, even if the mentions of him in the news lately have been generally positive...”  
  
Virgil's not sure whether to be relieved at his friend's blasé acceptance or annoyed that Richie never bothered to tell him about this. But some kind of strangled noise must have escaped his throat because his friend suddenly looks up at him with narrowed eyes.  
  
“Hey, wait a minute... You thought I was going to freak out about this, didn't you? That's why you didn't tell me before now. Dammit V!”  
  
The teen hunches his shoulders beneath Richie's anger, unable to meet the other's gaze as he offers this weak excuse. “Well, to be fair I was freaking out for a while. And it was more about Hotstreak than the guy thing, at least in part.”  
  
“Which is why you should have told me!” His friend retorts fiercely. “What's the point of having a super-genius for a friend if you don't make use of my advice? I mean I had my reservations at first but Hotstreak hasn't been so bad to hang out with and he definitely seemed hurt when you stopped talking to him. And really, what the hell is that about? I thought you were in love.”  
  
Virgil winces at this question since his reasoning seems so flimsy now and he really doesn't want to admit what had been going through his head. But he had promised himself that there would be no more lying and if he can't even tell Richie, the teen will never find the strength to tell everyone else. “I am and he might like me too, only I fucked it up. Because I thought I couldn't with Static and all, so when he kissed me, I ran away. And then he saw me take off my mask and now he probably thinks I was just fucking with him all along.”  
  
“Holy shit, V, he kissed you? You've definitely been holding out on me,” his friend says and the other metahuman sends a frustrated glare his way.  
  
“ _That's_ what you choose to focus on? Really?! How about concentrating on the part where I screwed everything up and need your fucking help.” However, despite Virgil's harsh words, he's not actually that angry, because if the blond is joking it means that things will be all right.  
  
“Easy, bro. Yeah things are bad, but excuse me if I take a sec to get over the part where you made out with your former nemesis and didn't even have the decency to kiss and tell,” Richie snarks back, before putting on his serious face again. “Besides, I don't think things are as terrible as you seem to think. I mean, Hotstreak hasn't used our secret identities for anything so he's probably more hurt than angry and you obviously haven't thought the Static issue through at all.”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
“I'm saying that the majority of Dakotans won't care about your orientation as long as you keep doing hero things if the recent polls on gay marriage are any indication of their thoughts. And even the bigots are hardly going to insult you to your face unless they're suicidal. But the more important issue is that Hotstreak doesn't have a secret identity.”  
  
Richie says this last as though imparting a great wisdom and yet Virgil honestly has no idea what he's talking about. Sure a lot of people know that the pyro had a life before the Bang, but not even the cops use his given name anymore.  
  
“So?” The teen finally asks, conceding his attempt to figure out the answer and taking his friend's long-suffering ' _are you an idiot_ ' face as no more than his due.  
  
“So that means you can hardly date him as Static and Virgil or someone is going to figure it out,” the blond tells him with a roll of his eyes. “Your disguise isn't magic and even if I hack Hotstreak's records to make Francis Stone seem like a different person, some people are still going to remember the truth.”  
  
“Oh. You're right, I hadn't thought of that,” the superhero says softly even as his mind is spinning from the other metahuman's words. All his worries about Static's image have been irrelevant because of course he can't let his identities link up like that, and if he were to build a life with Hotstreak, Virgil is the one that he would choose. Because Virgil is real where Static is little more than a cardboard cut-out of a person and if he had just told the pyro the truth after they kissed, he probably wouldn't be in this mess right now. “God, I'm such an idiot!”  
  
“Yes you are, but at least you have other good qualities to make up for it,” Richie says, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically. “And now that you finally told your awesome best friend the truth, I am going to help you fix everything.”  
  
“Really, you'll help me tell Sharon about Static then?” The other teen asks cheekily. It's a far cry from his former guilty silence but now that he has the blond's support, surely things must turn out all right.  
  
“Oh _hell_ no. Your sister scares the bejesus out of me and you know it. But I will help you track down your wayward boytoy after you clue your family in. You don't want your dad to have a heart attack when you show up with a boyfriend after all.”  
  
The mention of his father sours Virgil's new cheer slightly because that's still not a conversation that he's looking forward to. However, Richie sees his hesitation as a challenge and before the teen is quite sure what's happened, he's being marched through his front door. His friend shoves him into the kitchen where Virgil's father is making coffee and plants him at the table with a cheerful, “Hey Mr. Hawkins. Your son has something he wants to say to you.”  
  
The superhero can hardly wimp out after that, no matter how much he wants to, so he sends Richie a pointed glare when the blond hightails it from the room. Then Virgil turns back to face the music, shoulders hunching beneath his dad's questioning gaze.  
  
“So, uh, I guess that's true. I do have something to tell you,” the metahuman mumbles as his father waits patiently, the man having long practice at out-lasting troubled teens. This practice serves him well tonight because his son can't seem to find the right place to begin; Virgil doesn't want to blurt it out this time in case Richie's mention of heart attacks was more than an idle joke, but there also doesn't seem to be a good way to lead into the confession on his mind.  
  
 _For once I wish English was my strong suit,_ the teen thinks in frustration after stuttering out a bit more gibberish.  
  
But eventually his father takes pity on him, or maybe the man's just gotten bored, and he holds up a hand to halt the awkward tide. “Son, breathe. Whatever you have to tell me can't be as bad as you seem to think and at this rate, I'll be a grandfather before you spit it out.”  
  
“Yeah, about that...” Virgil seizes on this statement as the closest thing to a proper segue that he's going to get and charges forward before he loses his nerve entirely. “Grandchildren probably aren't in the cards at all. Not from me anyway. I like guys, dad. I mean I like girls too so I guess I'm more bi than gay, but that's... not really the point right now. So yeah, that's what I wanted to say.”  
  
“Okay then,” his father replies, a range of emotions playing across his face as Virgil watches him nervously. But despite the teen's fears, none of those are anger or disappointment and eventually his expression settles in a kind of bemused calm. “So I guess I should tell Sharon to stop worrying about your love life? I'm assuming you do have someone in mind since you've never been the type to notice things until they smack you in the face.”  
  
“ _Dad!_ That's really all you have to say?” Virgil asks incredulously, wondering if everyone he knows had guessed it before him. _I'd almost prefer bigotry if it meant they were actually surprised._  
  
However, that snark is more a reaction to the overwhelming wave of relief than a serious consideration and the teen slumps back in his chair as his father tells him earnestly. “I admit I never thought I would be having this conversation, but you are my son and I love you no matter what, just as I will care about the person with whom you choose to share your life. I will care about them just as I care about you and you should never doubt this fact.”  
  
What can Virgil say to that? How can he respond to these words which so neatly slice through all his doubts and fears? They make him feel guilty and relived and happy enough to start crying all at once and he stumbles around the table to bury his head against his father's chest.  
  
“How do you always know exactly what to say?” Virgil mutters as he holds on to the other tightly, his dad making soothing noises and holding him in turn.  
  
“It's my job, son. That's what parents are for,” his father tells him when the two finally separate. “Though your mother would have been better at it if she were still around. Jean would have sat you down with a cup of tea and had you tell her all about this boy who's got you tied in knots. And by the time she finished with you, the world would seem a brighter place indeed.”  
  
“Yeah, mom was great, though you're not doing too badly yourself. I just wish I had listened to you sooner about the lying 'cause I'm finally going to tell Sharon the truth today.”  
  
“You know I'm glad to hear that, but why the sudden change of heart?” His father asks, picking up his coffee cup again. “I've been arguing your sister's case for years.”  
  
“Hotstreak found out about Static and now he won't even talk to me,” Virgil admits in a small voice, looking back down at his hands. “I know he thinks everything was a lie and I was just pretending to be his friend to make sure he stayed within the law. Or that Richie and I were just mocking him behind his back, but that's not true. I was just... I never meant to hurt him.”  
  
“So it is the Stone boy who has you flustered. I was wondering if that might be the case since you've both been so depressed these last few weeks,” his dad says, taking a long sip of coffee while he gathers his thoughts. “I'm not going to give you a lecture on why this is a bad idea because I meant what I said and I'm sure you've already thought of every argument. However, I will offer you this advice: if you're truly sorry, apologize. Get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness until Francis is willing to listen to your explanation and maybe then you'll have a chance.”  
  
His dad speaks as though from long experience and while Virgil has never thought much about his parents' relationship, he has to wonder what story lies there. But that's a tale for another day because the metahuman has to repair everything that he's broken before he'll have time to chat about the past.  
  
However, with both Richie and his father behind him, and offering similar advice, the rift that stands between him and Hotstreak no longer seems quite so insurmountable. Hard and painful and frustrating, yes, but Virgil knows that the reward would be worth it and he will always regret it if he never tries.  
  
Of course, first he has to survive his sister's vengeance, whatever form that takes.  
  
\---  
  
Sharon receives the news that her brother is Static about as well as he expected, which means Virgil is prepared to duck when she hurls a dish his way.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” His sister shouts, eyes blazing with fury as she brandishes another plate. “How could you lie to me like this? For years!! Don't I deserve to know that my little brother is risking his life on a daily basis? Jesus fuck, Virgil, what is wrong with you?”  
  
The teen offers her no excuses, simply accepting her anger as he deserves and apologizing every time she takes a breath. He figures it's good practice for his next set of groveling and Sharon has earned the right to rant after all the lies he's told. So Virgil just bows his head when she orders him out of the kitchen, her muttered swearing following him from the room.  
  
But while his sister's temper burns hot, it also burns down quickly, and by the time the family finishes dinner, the fire has died out. Instead her eyes are sad and a bit considering and as Virgil begins to clear the table, she unbends enough to ask.  
  
“Did you really think I couldn't keep your secret? Or that I would think you're a freak? I did date Rubberband Man after all.”  
  
“Maybe at first because you were pretty vocal against the Bang Babies and we didn't get along so well back then.” Her brother admits. “But it's been years since I thought that. I just... I guess I didn't want you to worry about me or be put in danger because of what you knew.”  
  
“I'm your sister, Virgil. Of course I'm going to worry about you even when I want to smack you upside the head,” Sharon retorts, jabbing her fork in his direction. “However, I'm going to worry a whole lot less knowing that you can take care of yourself than I did thinking you were off doing drugs or something and if anyone does find out who you are, I prefer to know why I'm being kidnapped.”  
  
“That's what dad always said and I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize he was right,” the teen tells her and his sister's expression softens slightly at this apology. “But I'm trying to make up for my mistakes so from now on I'll warn you and dad when something serious is going down.”  
  
“You do that and maybe I'll let you off the hook eventually," she says and Virgil can tell from her slightly vicious smile that Sharon is going to make him work for it. “Though I suppose this does explain why you were so intent on turning Hotstreak around, even if it didn't work out in the end.”  
  
“Yeah, about that. It's been a rough few weeks but I haven't given up on him just yet,” Virgil informs her resolutely, wondering if he should mention the whole potential boyfriend thing right now.  
  
“Seriously, little brother?” Sharon asks, her eyebrows climbing in disbelief. “You've been a maudlin mess since before Christmas, moping about like he killed your puppy or something and I figured he had finally screwed things up.”  
  
“What?! No!” The teen exclaims, insulted by her assumption for Hotstreak's sake. “If anything, I'm the one who fucked him over and I intend to make it right.”  
  
“Huh, if you say so. I guess I owe the kid an apology,” she mutters before crossing her arms with a huff. “But I still don't trust him. You guys were practically arch-enemies for ages and now he comes to you when he wants to change his life around? I don't buy it even if he has been helping Stati- helping you out lately. Talk to me again when he's actually graduated and made something of himself.”  
  
That certainly answers the question of whether Virgil should tell his sister about his feelings now so the metahuman decides to leave that conversation until after he makes amends. But at least Sharon is kind of considering the possibility and he's sure that Hotstreak will win her over eventually.  
  
This is assuming that his apology is even successful because it seems unlikely that the pyro will forgive him as fast as his relatives. They're his family; they're required to love him even when he's been an idiot and there's years of love between them to balance out the lies. In contrast, his friendship with the redhead had been something new and fragile and Virgil worries that he shattered it beyond repair.  
  
And in truth, he is right to wonder because tracking Hotstreak down turns out to be the easy part. For while Backpack can't pinpoint the pyro's exact location unless he's using his powers, Richie has other ways of discovering what he needs to know.  
  
Indeed, Virgil doubts there's any information that the blond couldn't get him and he is quite happy not knowing exactly how it's done. One of the worst arguments they ever had was over the ethics of Richie's inventions and the teen would prefer not to disturb the balance that the two of them have found. So he simply accepts his friend's color-coded printout of Hotstreak's schedule with quiet thanks, looking for the best place to try his hand.  
  
At home is probably the most obvious location since the redhead does have to sleep sometime but the metahuman is trying to apologize not make the other feel like he's under attack. Which means daytime attempts in public places only and Virgil wants to laugh when he realizes that he's planning this as carefully as any mission he's ever done.  
  
But with the Center out of the equation – the last thing he needs is that kind of audience – the teen doesn't have too many options and he really wants to finish this before school starts again. However, there is one place which catches Virgil's eye and he figures the fire station is worth a shot.  
  
Unfortunately for the metahuman's dreams of reconciliation, the first attempt doesn't go so well.  
  
He doesn't even manage to talk to Hotstreak because the redhead takes one look at him and turns around, while Virgil's path is suddenly blocked by a dozen enormous firemen. They are polite but immovable and the teen clearly isn't getting past them without the other boy's consent. So after trying and failing for what seems like ages, the teen finally gives up, throwing his hands in the air and shouting, “Fine then! Will you just tell him I'm sorry?”  
  
 _If I was Static right now they'd let me by,_ Virgil thinks, turning around with a huff as he vows to try again another day. But the metahuman is pretty sure that showing up in costume would give Hotstreak the wrong impression and he already has enough misconceptions to overcome.  
  
At least the captain of this squad – the one with the unpronounceable name – does agree to pass his apology along and although the teen hasn't really talked to him as Static, the guy seems like the type to keep his word. However, even if Hotstreak does get his message, it doesn't seem to make any difference in his actions and Virgil soon moves on to plan B.  
  
Which goes down in a pillar of flames when the redhead brushes by him on the sidewalk without so much as a word. Indeed all his attempts to apologize keep failing miserably and the teen moves quickly through plans C to G, each one foiled by the pyro's determined refusal to listen to anything he has to say.  
  
So over the next week, Virgil tries a slew of methods to get his point across, from coffee to notes to birds of paradise – the flowers not the feathered kind – but the closest the redhead comes to speaking is a brief hitch in his step before the latest offering is thrown away.  
  
Honestly, by the time the teen has reached plan Z without even a conversation, he's almost ready to try skywriting because at least that Hotstreak wouldn't be able to ignore. It's either attempt something crazy or give up and the metahuman refuses to stop until he's tried everything.  
  
However, before Virgil reaches the level of desperation required to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness in the middle of the street, the redhead makes all his strategizing moot.  
  
\---  
  
Static has just finished another exhausting patrol when the first drops of rain begin to fall and he drags himself up off his perch to run for shelter. The sky has been threatening a storm all day but criminals are rather like mailmen – neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail keeps them inside where they belong. Which means that the superhero must show his face as well, lest the less law-abiding citizens of Dakota realize how much he hates to get wet.  
  
So the teen is racing along, trying to reach the Gas Station before the deluge shorts him out, and he's paying far more attention to the sky than to what's on the ground. Which is his only excuse for why Static nearly goes ballistic when someone grabs his arm right by the door.  
  
The metahuman whirls around, ready to blast the interloper with the ball of lightning in his hands but the energy fizzles out as soon as he sees the other's face. Because it's Hotstreak standing there and the teen feels a spike of panic at how unprepared he is to have this conversation now. Static may have been praying for this opportunity, but he's cold and wet and tired and so hardly at his most eloquent. The pyro's first words do not help.  
  
“What the hell have you been doing?” Hotstreak demands, fingers tight around the superhero's arm. “You need to stop showing up wherever I am like some kind of fucking stalker and just get a clue already. I don't want to talk to you; I don't want to look at you. I don't even want to speak your name.”  
  
Static winces beneath the firestarter's glare, his guilt increasing with every pointed snarl, and if the pyro had stopped there, the teen would have given up. He would have accepted Hotstreak's hatred as no more than his due and slunk away to nurse his broken heart.  
  
But the other metahuman does not stop and the superhero's shame begins to be overcome by outrage at the accusations that he hears.  
  
“Was this your whole plan? Pretend to like the stupid ex-Meta-Breed until he falls for your act and then mock him secretly?” The redhead yells, his face twisted with anger and with pain. “What kind of secrets could you have hoped to get from me? Or were you just in it for the kicks? Pretend that you might even like me and see how gullible I am?”  
  
He goes on in this vein for some time, calling the other metahuman every name under the sun, and although Static meant to accept the pyro's condemnation, eventually he can't take it anymore. Sure he may have listened to his sister's rant without complaint but at least her anger was grounded in reality.  
  
“Okay, you know what, screw you!” The superhero shouts, cutting Hotstreak off mid-word as his temper finally breaks. “I've been trying to apologize for lying and freaking out on you for weeks but I refuse to accept the blame for your insecurities. This wasn't some secret plan to screw you over since in case you don't remember, you came to me, you dick. I just wanted to help and then things got fucking complicated and I panicked, okay?! I panicked because I care about you too fucking much and I know you have the right to hate me for being such an idiot. But at least hate me for the stuff I've actually done! I may not have told you about being Static, but I meant the rest of it.”  
  
This last sentence trails off into a defeated whisper, the teen's shoulders slumping as he realizes that he just blew his last chance. Although Hotstreak is currently too busy gaping at him to respond, Static doubts that this will last and he doesn't think that he can handle anymore insults. So the metahuman tugs his arm from the pyro's slack grip and turns to go.  
  
He reaches the entrance of the Gas Station with no response but falling water, the cold chill seeping through his costume to gather on his skin. Or maybe it's simply the frozen pain within his chest that takes his breath away.  
  
“Virgil, wait. Please.” These words halt the teen in mid-step, one hand wrapped around the handle of the door. “I understand why you kept your secrecy at first; I mean, I'm not a total idiot. But why didn't you tell me later on? I thought that we were friends. I had thought that, maybe, we could be more.”  
  
“Because I'm a coward. Because I didn't want you to get hurt and I couldn't see any other way. Because I'm an idiot. Take your pick of excuses and any one of them would be the truth. I didn't want you to know because I didn't want you to look beneath the mask and realize there's nothing worth loving there. But I am so sorry that I hurt you with my fears.”  
  
Static is afraid to turn around as he speaks this confession. He is afraid to hope and have that hope denied. So the teen stops breathing when warm arms wrap around his chest.  
  
“Anyone ever tell you that you're an idiot?” Hotstreak murmurs in his ear. Yet despite the words, the tone is fond and the pyro's breath against his neck sends a shiver through his skin. “I didn't fall in love with your mask; I fell in love with you and I've never found Sparky all that interesting. He's nice enough and good at what he does, but he's a caricature of a hero and I prefer someone a bit more human in my bed. What do you say, Virgil? Will you give us a shot?”  
  
And it is Virgil who turns around slowly, one hand coming up to remove his mask as Static slips away. He's still nervous, still terrified really, but the future that spreads out before him is worth taking the leap. Though the teen still has to ask, “Are you sure about this? We might crash and burn to ashes in the end.”  
  
“Fire is my element, remember? So I'll risk it if you will and I think you might be surprised by how well our sparks mesh.” With every word, Hotstreak presses closer, his body a warm pressure against Virgil's chest and when the pyro finally kisses him again, the teen can't hold back a moan.  
  
He opens to the redhead easily, wrapping an arm around his neck and welcoming every touch against his skin. Hotstreak teases him, nipping at the Virgil's lips while working his hands beneath the superhero's costume to stroke hot fingers across his ribs. It makes him shudder, the heat of the pyro's hands chasing away the chill, and he pulls Hotstreak closer to shove his tongue into his mouth. The action is both claim and exploration as the teen maps every crevice, sucking a hint of cinnamon from the other's lips before they finally part.  
  
“See love, I told you that we'd burn bright together,” Hotstreak says with a smirk and Virgil feels some smugness of his own at the other's breathlessness. “Although if you ever go AWOL on me like that again, I am breaking up with you for good. Either of us has a problem and we're going to talk and yell and fucking work it out. Deal?”  
  
“Deal. As long as the same applies to you,” the other metahuman replies, the frustration of the last few days at the forefront of his mind. However, he's too happy, _and horny_ , to stay serious for long so he continues with a cheeky grin: “And will you please tell your firefighter buddies that I'm allowed in your presence now? Those guys are the best cockblockers in existence, but I rather think that you don't need them now.”  
  
“God I hope not,” Hotstreak laughs and Virgil's heart flutters at the sight of his happiness. He looks good like that, eyes sparkling and a soft smile on his face, and the superhero vows that he'll do his best to keep it there.  
  
They've still got a lot to talk about: details to consider and grievances to air, but at the moment, the teen really does not give a shit. Standing here with Hotstreak, naught but rain and heat between them, it feels as though there is nothing in the world but this. Nothing but the two of them in this one bright moment and for once Virgil's fears are silent in his mind. They have disappeared beneath the wave of joy that fills him and he will enjoy this peace for however long it last.  
  
So when Hotstreak leans down to kiss the teen once more, the superhero tilts his head up to meet him and Virgil loses himself in pleasure with one last random thought: _Maybe the rain isn't so bad after all._


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after going AWOL for almost two months, here's the ending that I promised you. This may seem a little odd but I've always planned to end it more or less like this and it actually went pretty quickly once I finally started it. Though this is yet another chapter where Ao3 is screwing up my formatting, dang it all. Anyone know how to make some text smaller on here?
> 
> And I'm very excited that this fic is finally done! I do have one more PWP planned for these two, but other than that there's nothing else in the works at the moment. Though I am always open to suggestions if there's something that you really want to see.

 

 

 

  
**Dakota's Elemental Duo Saves the Day Again**  
An exclusive scoop from the Times' best gossip columnist!

  
Another petty supervillain learned the error of his ways on Friday when he tried to take this very newspaper hostage in some kind of mad scheme. He called himself the Reckoning and spouted off a ream of nonsense about evening the scales of justice but, in truth, he was just a nut with a bomb. A rather eye-blinding nut with a costume tackier than the Riddler's and at least twice as unattractive. This man, later identified as Mark Rachett of Gotham, wasn't even a Bang Baby and he was woefully unprepared for the ass-kicking that he was about to receive.  
  
Pardon this reporter's language, but I've never enjoyed having my life threatened and I must admit that I cheered a little when our homegrown heroes appeared. Static took out the bomb while Hotstreak took out Rachett and watching the two of them work was sheer luxury.  
  
The firestarter's delinquent past is visible in his fighting style, all brutal efficiency and snark, but he's come a long way from the days when he was Static's #1 nemesis. Everyone knows that they work well as partners, after all crime has dropped by 15% since Hotstreak changed his ways, but now that this columnist has seen them in action, I can say with absolute certainty that they are friends as well.  
  
Rather like Static and Gear used to be and Dakota has feared the worst since our superhero's techie sidekick disappeared. However, when the dust had settled slightly, the duo agreed to answer a few of their fans' most burning questions and I'm pleased to announce that Gear is fine.  
  
Static was actually rather sheepish about it when I explained the city's worry, although Hotstreak seemed to find the idea hilarious. “I didn't even think about that,” the electric superhero told me, blushing adorably beneath his mask. “I guess I'm still not used to being famous even after all these years. But Gear's always been happier on the tech side of things and now that Hotstreak's seen the light, he can spend his time inventing instead of out with me. Though you may still see him once in a while if I manage to drag him away from his toys.”  
  
The two superheroes were obviously still kids at heart, the conversation devolving into jibes and snarking for a minute, and it reminded me of nothing more than my own two sons bickering. But for all their laughter, they were still professional and Rachett was never without a watchful eye.  
  
Indeed, Static barely blinked when the fool tried to make a break for it, electricity shooting out to pin the guy against a wall. Let me tell you, standing next to the lightning user right then was like licking an electric fence (not something for you kids to try at home) and Dakota is very lucky that this Bang Baby chose the side of angels instead of crime.  
  
And yet I'm pretty sure that he never even considered the other option because there is something so wholesome about Static that it's almost ridiculous. Yes, he's still young but beneath the snarky veneer is a guy who was given superpowers and instead of making his own situation better, decided to dedicate his life to us instead.  
  
Can any of us truly say that we would have done the same? I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I probably would have used my powers selfishly if not for any actual evil scheming, tormenting people who use their cell phones during dinner and making sure that my traffic lights were always green.  
  
But talking to Static made me want to be a better person even as Hotstreak proved that I'm not the only one. Because when I asked the pyro how he managed to change his life around, he simply shrugged and said, “Sparky's damn convincing when he wants to be. Besides, it's not like my future was going anywhere. Honestly, most of the Bang Babies were hardly criminal masterminds, they were just dumb kids who didn't know any other way to be.”  
  
Sounds like he was speaking from experience to me but the former Meta Breed wouldn't say anymore about it and from there our conversation turned to much lighter things.  
  
So for those girls out there who have been dreaming of being carried off into the sunset, I have good and bad news for you. Yes, Static is still single (and even finer in person, I promise you), but he claims that his superhero duties don't leave him time to date.  
  
“It's that whole secret identity thing. I can't tell them who I am because that would put them in danger and yet no girl worth chasing is going to accept it if I bail on her all the time.”  
  
Valid arguments I'm sure and he spoke with the tone of one who'd learned all this the hard way – which means, ladies, this is your chance to prove him wrong. However, for those of you who prefer your men a little badder or just have a thing for redheads, you're about to be very disappointed. Because Hotstreak responded to my question rather differently.  
  
“Yeah, I've got someone and it's serious, although his name is none of your business. So you can tell my fans to stop throwing clothes at me – it's creepy and nothing's ever going to come of it.”  
  
Yes, you read that right: apparently Hotstreak plays for the other team and he's disgustingly in love as well if Static is to be believed.  
  
“Totally whipped,” the superhero fake whispered to me before his friend smacked him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes at the firestarter's growl. Though there may have been some truth in Hotstreak's retort of, “You're just jealous that I found someone who's willing to put up with me,” because Static brought the interview to a halt rather quickly after that.  
  
Or maybe that was just the police, arriving too late to be of any real use but always ready to cart a criminal off to jail. They took charge of Rachett with the ease of long practice, Static and Hotstreak greeting many of them by name, and if our heroes signed a few autographs before flying off, my lips are sealed.  
  
So there you have it: this columnist's brush with death and a supervillain who had to be seen to be believed. And I know that no one reads my articles for any kind of deep insight but when you gossip with your friends about our heroes' love lives, try to remember that they're doing this for free and while Dakota's protectors aren't as well known as Batman or the members of the Justice League, they've served us well. Even Hotstreak, who has been making up for his younger years with a vengeance, is doing a job you couldn't pay most people to take on and so they don't owe us anything. We like to think otherwise, but superheroes are a luxury not some fundamental right, particularly such attractive boys as ours.  
  
And, of course, always remember that you heard it all here firs -

  
  
“Are you going to buy that, sir?”  
  
Robert Hawkins looks up from the paper that he's reading to meet the store owner's slightly irate glare. Apparently the line had moved on while he was distracted and it's his turn to pay right now, something that he would have realized if he'd bothered to look up.  
  
So the man mumbles an awkward apology as he sets down his groceries, almost more embarrassed to have been caught reading Cindi Lauren's column than he is about blocking the line.  
  
But while the woman usually covers celebrity wardrobe malfunctions with an unholy glee, Robert had seen the mention of Static and been intrigued. Particularly since the boys had told him of their plan to have Hotstreak come out over last week's dinner and he had been worried about how the media would react.  
  
 _Though I guess I should have trusted Richie's spreadsheets after all,_ the man muses as he leaves the store, newspaper tucked under one arm. Because if even an airhead like Cindi is already coming to the pyro's defense then everything should be fine. Sure a few people may still flip out but the boys can take care of themselves as long as the entire city doesn't turn against them, and no one seems to have noticed that they're closer than most friends might be.  
  
This article will certainly help to sell the illusion that Hotstreak's boyfriend and Static are two different people and Robert's actually somewhat surprised by how well their ruse has worked. But then again, he rarely sees the two in their superhero personae and that probably makes all the difference.  
  
Because he can't look at Static without seeing Virgil, who routinely passes out on the couch with his head on Francis' shoulder and greets him with a lazy kiss before they head to school. Really the two are so deliriously in love that it's hard to believe anyone could mistake the emotion for anything less powerful.  
  
But apparently they've managed to pass their relationship off as no more than deep friendship and maybe now he'll be able to sleep more easily at night. After all, it's a father's job to worry: about the safety of his children, their futures and their happiness, and Virgil has given him more grief than Sharon ever did. However, while Robert still hates the idea of Static risking his life constantly, he can't forbid his son his calling and it actually helps to know that Hotstreak is right there to watch his back.  
  
 _Which is not something I ever thought I'd say. How did Francis Stone become a comfort instead of a thorn in my boy's side?_   But he is, because the pyro has a vested interest in bringing Virgil back uninjured and a ruthless streak to balance Static's selflessness.  
  
Besides, Robert cannot deny that his son is happier now than he's been for quite awhile, the burden of his powers laying more lightly on his mind. So despite whatever minor soul searching he had to do when he first realized where Virgil's heart was leaning - _I had been expecting grandchildren, all right?_ \- these days the Francis is a Hawkins in all but name.  
  
Certainly the young man spends more time at their house than he does his court-appointed foster home and even Sharon doesn't mind his presence anymore. Robert's not actually sure when his daughter found out the truth of the boys' relationship, though there was a week some months ago when she couldn't look them in the eye, but she treats the pyro just like another brother now. Sharon is actually the one who asked Francis if he was okay with hiding, dating Virgil while pretending that he and Static were nothing more than friends.  
  
“I'm fine, I promise,” Hotstreak had told her with a shrug. “It might be nice to tell everyone eventually but right now that would put too many people in danger and this actually helps keep us professional.”  
  
“Yeah, can you imagine Batman's reaction if we let someone get away because we were too busy making out?” Virgil put in over his boyfriend's shoulder. “He'd probably string us up by our ears somewhere.”  
  
“Though it would probably be worth it,” the firestarter replied, sending a wicked smirk the other's way. “Do you have any idea how hot you look in that costume? There's a reason I was obsessed with Static back in the day and let me tell you, it wasn't all revenge.”  
  
“Well... I do have a spare upstairs if you'd ever like to play out a fantasy or three. I might have some ideas of my own about your-”  
  
“Keep your kinky sex ideas to yourself,” Sharon had shouted, throwing up in her hands as her brother laughed and their father had ducked back into the kitchen with a chuckle of his own. It was good to see the three of them so relaxed together now that the boys had worked things out, that rough spot in the beginning little more than memory.  
  
Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they were still together in twenty years or forty because Robert knows what love looks like and while it may not be official yet, they're definitely a family now. _A family that's going to kill me if I doesn't get back soon,_ he realizes as he checks the time.  
  
He and Sharon are supposed to leave for the school at four and he still has to get dressed so he's already cutting it close. Indeed his daughter frowns at him when he rushes through the door, shoving a suit into his hands as she tells him to hurry up. She looks amazing, of course, the perfect image of her mother, and Robert truly wishes that Jean were here to see this day.  
  
Because she would have clapped the loudest of anyone in the auditorium, her smile beaming with pride as she watched her son cross the stage. But instead it's only Robert and Sharon cheering when Virgil steps forward to take his diploma and there is a gap between them where his wife should have stood.  
  
She would have been proud of all three boys and so he claps for Richie and Francis in her stead, ignoring the strange looks some of the other parents send his way. It's not as though the redhead has anyone else to cheer for him and someone should acknowledge that he's worked hard to earn his place. Though Robert is pleased to see that Francis has also made some friends among his classmates, a number of students slapping his shoulder in congratulation as he walks off the stage.  
  
Some time later, after the various speeches and photo ops are over, Robert takes everyone out for a celebratory dinner over at Caligari's, the expensive new restaurant that just opened downtown. It's a bit more high class than his kids are used to but this is a special occasion and he gets a slightly twisted amusement from watching Francis try to navigate seven forks.  
  
So they wine and dine and laugh together, Richie expounding on his college plans while Mrs. Foley grills Virgil on his future and the waiter keeps everyone well supplied with drinks. He did a slight double-take when he recognized Hotstreak, _probably reads Miss Lauren's column,_ but thankfully he remained professional. Actually, Billy there seems to find it rather cute when Francis and Virgil relax enough to get a little handsy, nothing too risque but enough to make their feelings obvious.  
  
 _I guess times really have changed after all,_ Robert thinks, knowing that in his day such actions would have been met with scorn at best. So when the waiter gives them a little wink and dessert on the house, he feels the last of his tension slip away.  
  
“To your futures,” he says, raising a glass to toast his son and his friends. “You've all become fine young men and watching you grow has been one of the great joys of my life, even when you were driving me absolutely crazy. I know you're going to change the world before you're done and I can't wait to see it.”  
  
“Thanks dad,” Virgil replies as they all clink their drinks together, though his smile turns a bit embarrassed when Robert can't resist continuing.  
  
“Just remember, I don't want to know about what happens in your bedroom or anywhere else for that matter, and you should never be ashamed of a little groveling when either of you screws up. Though you should also know, Francis, that despite how much I like you, if you don't take good care of Virgil, I am going to carve you into tiny little pieces and feed you to my cat. Just FYI.”  
  
“ _Dad!_ ” His son protests with a groan, in truth more at the slang than the threatening, and he smacks his boyfriend on the shoulder when he starts to laugh.  
  
“I will, Mr. Hawkins. No worries there,” the redhead says through his guffaws before leaning down to kiss the protest off Virgil's lips. “I don't plan on going anywhere.”  
  
  
 _The End_


End file.
